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"  Then  the  vigilants  post  themselves  as  a  wall  of  defence  about 
the  building."— page  423. 

425 


OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH 


BY 

LAWRENCE    L.    LYNCH, 

(OF  THE  SECEET  SEKVICE.) 

Author  of  "  Shadowed  by  Three,"  "  Madeline  Payne,1 

"  Dangerous  Ground,"  "  The  Diamond  Coterie," 

etc.,  etc. 


CHICAGO: 
ALEX.    T.   LOYD  &  CO. 

1885. 


Copyright,  1885,  by 
ALEX.  T.  LOYD  &  CO., 

CHICAGO.    . 

Copyright,  1882,  by 
DONNELLEY,  LOYD  &  CO. 


OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  1. 

A  BAD  BEGINNING. 

It  was  a  June  day ;  breezy,  yet  somewhat  too  warm. 
The  slow  going  old  passenger  train  on  the  slow  going  mail 
route,  that  shall  be  nameless  in  these  chronicles,  seemed  in 
less  of  a  hurry  than  usual,  and  I,  stretched  lazily  across 
two  seats,  with  my  left  arm  in  a  sling,  was  beginning  to 
yield  to  the  prevailing  atmosphere  of  stupidity,  when  we 
rumbled  up  to  a  village  station,  and  took  on  board  a  single 
passenger. 

I  was  returning  from  a  fruitless  mission ;  and  had  stepped 
on  board  the  eastward-bound  train  in  anything  but  an 
enviable  frame  of  mind;  and  no  wonder!  I,  who  prided 
myself  upon  my  skill  in  my  profession ;  J,  who  was  counted 
by  my  chief  the  "  best  detective  on  the  force,  sir," — had 
started,  less  than  a  week  before,  for  a  little  farming  settle- 
ment in  one  of  the  interior  States,  confident  of  my  ability 

to  unravel  soon,  and  easily,  a  knotty  problem. 

9 


10  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

I  had  taken  every  precaution  to  conceal  my  identity,  and 
believed  myself  in  a  fair  way  to  unveil  the  mystery  that 
"Kad  brought  grief  and  consternation  into  the  midst  of  those 
comfortable,  easy-going  farmers ;  and  I  had  been  spotted 
9t  the  very  outset !  I  had  been  first  warned,  in  a  gentle- 
manly but  anonymous  fashion,  to  leave  the  neighborhood, 
and  then,  because  I  did  not  avail  myself  of  the  very  first 
opportunity  to  decamp,  had  been  shot  from  behind  a  hedge  ! 

And  this  is  how  it  happened : 

Groveland,  so  called,  doubtless,  because  of  the  total 
absence  of  anything  bearing  closer  resemblance  to  a  grove 
than  the  thrifty  orchards  scattered  here  and  there,  is 
a  thriving  township,  not  a  town. 

Its  inhabitants  reside  in  the  midst  of  their  own  farms, 
and,  save  the  farm  buildings,  the  low,  rambling,  sometimes 
picturesque  farm  houses,  or  newer,  more  imposing,  "  im- 
proved" and  often  exquisitely  ugly,  white  painted  dwell- 
ings ;  the  blacksmith  shop,  operated  by  a  thrifty  farmer  and 
his  hard-fisted  sons;  the  post-office,  kept  in  one  corner  of 
the  "front  room"  by  a  sour-visaged  old  farmer's  wife  ;  and 
the  "  deestrict"  school-house,  then  in  a  state  of  quies- 
cence,— town  institutions  there  were  none  in  Groveland. 

The  nearest  village,  and  that  an  exceedingly  small  one, 
was  five  miles  west  of  Groveland's  western  boundary  line; 
and  the  nearest  railroad  town  lay  ten  miles  east  of  the 
on  stern  boundary. 

So  the  Grovelanders  were  a  community  unto  themselves, 


A  BAD  BEGINNING.  ll 

• 

ami  were  seldom  disturbed  by  a  ripple  from  the  outside 
world. 

It  was  a  well-to-do  community.  Most  of  its  inhabitants 
had  "  squatted"  there  when  the  land  was  cheap  and  uncul- 
tivated, and  they  were  poor  and  young. 

Time,  railroads,  and  the  grand  march  of  civilization  had 
mcreased  the  value  of  their  acres ;  and  their  own  industry 
had  reared  for  them  pleasant  homes,  overflowing  granaries, 
barns  "good  enough  to  live  in,"  orchards,  vineyards,  all 
manner  of  comforts  and  blessings.  Strong  sons  and  fair 
daughters  had  grown  up  around  them ;  every  man  knew 
his  neighbor,  and  had  known  him  for  years.  They  shared 
in  their  neighborhood  joys  and  griefs,  and  made  common 
cause  at  weddings,  funerals,  threshings,  huskings,  cider 
makings,  everything. 

One  would  suppose  it  difficult  to  have  a  secret  in  Grove- 
land,  and  yet  a  mystery  had  come  among  them. 

'Squire  Ewing,  'squire  by  courtesy,  lived  in  a  fine  new 

white  house  on  a  fine  farm  in  the  very  center  of  the  town- 

"ship.     His  family  consisted  of  his  wife,  two  daughters,  the 

eldest,  eighteen,  the  younger,  fifteen,  and  two  sons,  boys  of 

twelve  and  ten. 

The  daughters  of  'Squire  Ewing  were  counted  among  the 
brightest  and  prettiest  in  Groveland,  and  they  were  not 
lacking  in  accomplishments,  as  accomplishments  go  in  such 
communities.  Much  learning  was  not  considered  a  necessity 
among  the  Groveland  young  ladies,  but  they  had  been 


12  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

• 

smitten  with  the  piano-playing  mania,  and  every  Winter 
the  district  school-house  was  given  over,  for  one  night  in 
the  week,  to  the  singing  school. 

The  Misses  Ewing  were  ranked  among  the  best 
"musicians"  of  Groveland,  and  they  had  also  profited  fora 
time  by  the  instructions  of  the  nearest  seminary,  or  young 
ladies'  school. 

One  evening,  just  as  the  sun  was  setting,  Ellen,  or  Nell 
Ewing,  as  she  was  familiarly  called,  mounted  her  pony  and 
cantered  blithely  away,  to  pass  the  night  with  a  girl  friend. 

It  was  nothing  unusual  for  the  daughters  of  one  farmer 
to  ride  or  drive  miles  and  pass  the  night  or  a  longer  time 
with  the  daughters  of  another,  and  Nellie's  destination  was 
only  four  miles  away. 

The  night  pa.Bsed  and  half  of  the  ensuing  day,  but  the 
eldest  daughter  of  Farmer  Ewing  did  not  return. 

However,  there  was  no  cause  for  alarm  in  this,  and 
'Squire  Ewing  ate  his  evening  meal  in  peace,  confident  that 
his  daughter  would  return  before  the  night  had  closed  in. 
But  a  second  night  came  and  went,  and  still  she  did  not  come. 

Then  the  good  farmer  became  impatient,  and  early  on 
the  morning  of  the  second  day  he  dispatched  his  eldest  son 
to  hasten  the  return  of  the  tardy  one. 

But  the  boy  came  back  alone,  and  in  breathless  agitation. 
Nellie  had  not  been  seen  by  the  Ballous  since  the  night  she  left 
home.  She  had  complained  of  a  headache,  and  had  decided 
to  return  home  again.  She  had  remained  at  Mrs.  Ballou's 


A  BAD  BEGINNING.  13 

only  an  hour;  it  was  not  yet  dark  when  she  rode  away. 

Well,  Nellie  Ewing  was  never  seen  after  that,  and  not  a 
clue  to  her  hiding-place,  or  her  fate,  could  be  discovered. 

Detectives  were  employed ;  every  possible  and  impossi- 
ble theory  was  "  evolved"  and  worked  upon,  but  with  no 
other  result  than  failure. 

Groveland  was  in  a  state  of  feverish  excitement ;  con- 
jectures the  most  horrible  and  most  absurd  were  afloat ; 
nothing  was  talked  of  save  the  mysterious  disappearance  of 
Nellie  Ewing. 

And  so  nearly  three  months  passed.  At  the  end  of  that 
time  another  thunderbolt  fell. 

Mamie  Rutger,  the  only  daughter  of  a  prosperous  German 
farmer;  wild  little  Mamie,  who  rode  the  wickedest  colts, 
climbed  the  tallest  tress,  sang  loudest  in  the  singing-school, 
and  laughed  oftenest  at  the  merry-makings,  also  vanished. 
At  first  they  thought  it  one  of  her  jokes,  for  she  was  given 
to  practical  joking;  but  she  did  not  come  back.  No  trace 
of  her  could  be  found. 

At  twilight  one  June  evening  she  was  flitting  about  the 
door-yard,  sometimes  singing  gayly,  sometimes  bending  over 
a  rosebush,  sometimes  snatching  down  handfuls  of  early 
cherries.  After  that  she  was  seen  no  more. 

Then  ensued  another  search,  and  a  panic  possessed  that 
once  quiet  community.  The  country  was  scoured.  Every 
foot  of  road,  every  acre  of  ground,  every  hedge  or  clump 
of  trees,  every  stream,  every  deserted  or  shut-up  building 
for  miles  around  was  faithfully  searched. 


14  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

And  then  Farmer  Rutger  and  'Squire  Ewing  closeted 
themselves  together,  took  counsel  of  each  other,  and  decided 
to  call  in  the  aid  of  a  city  detective.  They  came  together 
to  our  office  and  laid  their  case  before  our  chief. 

"If  any  man  can  clear  up  this  matter,  it's  Bathurst,"  said 
that  bluff  old  fellow. 

And  so  I  was  called  into  the  consultation. 

It  was  a  very  long  and  very  earnest  one.  Questions 
were  asked  that  would  have  done  credit  to  the  brightest 
lawyer.  Every  phase  of  the  affair,  or  the  two  affairs,  was 
closely  examined  from  different  standpoints.  Every  pos- 
sibility weighed;  copious  notes  taken. 

Before  the  two  men  left  us,  I  had  in  my  mind's  eye  a 
tolerably  fair  map  of  Groveland,  and  in  my  memory, 
safely  stowed  away,  the  names  of  many  Grovelanders,  to- 
gether with  various  minute,  and  seemingly  irrelevant,  items 
concerning  the  families,  and  nearest  friends  and  neigh- 
bors, of  the  two  bereaved  fathers. 

They  fully  perceived  the  necessity  for  perfect  secrecy, 
and  great  caution.  And  I  felt  assured  that  no  word  or 
sign  from  them  would  betray  my  identity  and  actual  busi- 
ness when,  a  few  days  later,  I  should  appear  in  Grove- 
land. 

It  was  a  strange  case ;  one  of  the  sort  that  had  a  won- 
derful fascination  for  me;  one  of  the  sort  that  once  entered 
upon,  absorbed  me  soul  and  body,  sleeping  or  waking,  day 
and  night,  for  I  was  an  enthusiast  in  my  profession. 


A  BAD  BEGINNING.  15 

After  waiting  a  few  days  I  set  out  for  the  scene  of  the 
mystery.  I  did  not  take  the  most  direct  route  to  reach  my 
destination,  but  went  by  a  circuitous  way  to  a  small  town 
west  of  the  place,  and  so  tramped  into  it,  coming,  not  from 
the  city,  but  from  the  opposite  direction. 

My  arrival  was  as  unobtrusive  as  I  could  make  it,  and 
I  carried  my  wardrobe  in  a  somewhat  dusty  bundle,  swung 
across  my  shoulder  by  a  strap. 

I  had  assumed  the  character  of  a  Swede  in  search  of  em- 
ployment, and  my  accent  and  general  ensemble  were  per- 
fect in  their  way. 

Perseveringly  I  trudged  from  farm  to  farm,  meeting 
sometimes  with  kindness,  and  being  as  often  very  briefly 
dismissed,  or  ordered  off  for  a  tramp.  But  no  one  was  in 
need  of  a  man  until  I  arrived  at  the  widow  Ballou's. 

This  good  woman,  who  was  a  better  farmer  than  some  of 
her  male  neighbors,  and  who  evidently  had  an  eye  to  the 
saving  of  dollars  and  cents,  listened  quite  indifferently 
to  my  little  story  while  I  told  how  long  I  had  looked  for 
work,  and  how  I  had  been  willing  to  labor  for  very  small 
wages.  But  when  I  arrived  at  the  point  where  I  repre- 
sented myself  as  now  willing  to  work  for  my  board  until 
I  could  do  better,  her  eyes  brightened,  she  suddenly  found 
my  monotone  more  interesting,  decided  that  I  "looked 
honest,"  and,  herself,  escorted  me  to  the  kitchen  and  dealt 
me  out  a  bountiful  supper,  for  I  had  reached  the  Ballou 
farmhouse  at  sundown. 


16  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  ENEMY  MAKES  A  MOVE. 

Three  days  passed,  and  of  course  during  that  time  I 
heard  much  about  the  two  girls  and  their  singular  disap- 
pearance. 

At  night,  after  work  was  done,  and  supper  disposed  of, 
Mrs.  Ballou  would  send  some  one  to  the  post-office. 
This  duty  had  usually  fallen  to  Miss  Grace  Ballou,  or  been 
chosen  by  her,  but  since  the  night  when  Nellie  Ewing  rode 
away  from  the  door,  never  again  to  be  seen,  Mrs.  Ballou 
had  vetoed  the  evening  canters  that  Grace  so  much  loved, 
and  so  the  post-office  was  attended  to  by  Master  Fred,  the 
spoiled  son  and  heir,  aged  thirteen,  or  by  the  "hired 
man." 

On  the  evening  of  the  third  day  of  my  service,  I  saddled 
one  of  the  farm  horses,  and  rode  to  the  post-office  to  fetch 
the  widow's  mail,  and  great  was  my  surprise  when  the  grim 
postmistress  presented  me  with  a  letter  bearing  my  assumed 
name,  Chris  Ollern,  and  directed  to  the  care  of  Mrs. 
.  Ballou. 

Stowing  away  the  widow's  papers  and  letters  in  a  capa- 


t  THE  ENEMY  MAKES  A   MOVE.  17 

clous  coat  pocket,  and  my  own  letter  in  a  smaller  inner  one, 
I  rode  thoughtfully  homeward. 

Who  had  written  me?  Not  the  men  at  the  office;  they 
were  otherwise  instructed ;  besides,  the  letter  was  a  local 
one,  bearing  only  the  Groveland  mark.  Could  it  be  that 
Farmer  Kutger  or  'Squire  Ewing  had  forgotten  all  my  in- 
structions, and  been  insane  enough  to  write  me? 

I  hurriedly  put  my  horse  in  his  stable,  unburdened  my 
pocket  of  the  widow's  mail,  and  mounted  to  my  room. 

Locking  my  door  and  lighting  a  tallow  candle — the 
widow  objected  to  kerosene  in  sleeping  rooms, — I  opened 
my  letter. 

It  was  brief,  very,  containing  only  these  words: 

CHRIS  OLLERN — Asyou  call  yourself,  unless  you  wish  to  disappear 
as  effectually  as  did  Nellie  Ewing  and  Mamie  Rutger,  you  will 
abandon  your  present  pursuit.  A  word  to  the  wise  is  sufficient. 

Here  was  an  astonisher,  and  here  was  also  a  clue.  I  was 
betrayed,  or  discovered.  But  the  enemy  had  'showed  his 
hand.  I  had  also  made  a  discovery. 

There  was  an  enemy  then ;  there  had  been  foul  play ; 
and  that  enemy  was  still  in  the  vicinity,  as  this  letter  proved. 

It  was  a  wily  enemy  too;  the  letter  would  betray  nothing 
as  regarded  identity.  It  was  printed;  the  letters  were 
smooth  and  even,  but  perfectly  characterless.  It  was  a 
wily  enemy,  but  not  quite  a  wise  one,  as  the  sending  of 
such  a  letter  proved. 


18  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

4 

I  did  not  leave  my  room  again  that  night,  but  sat  for 
hours  thinking. 

The  next  morning  as  I  came  from  the  barn-yard  with  a 
pail  of  milk,  I  encountered  Miss  Grace  Ballou.  She  was 
feeding  a  brood  of  chickens,  and  seemed  inclined  to  talk 
with  me. 

"Did  you  ever  see  such  fine  chicks,  Chris?"  she  asked ; 
"  and  they  are  only  two  weeks  old." 

I  stopped,  of  course,  to  admire  the  chickens  and  express 
my  admiration  in  broken  English. 

Suddenly  she  moved  nearer  me,  and  said,  in  a  lower 
tone : 

"  Chris,  did  you  bring  any  letters  for  any  one  except 
mother,  last  night?" 

Promptly  and  imblushingly,  yet  somewhat  surprised,  I 
answered,  "  Xo." 

Her  eyes  searched  my  face  for  a  second,  and  then  she 
said,  falling  back  a  step  : 

"  Well,  don't  say  anything  about  my  asking  you,  Chris. 
I — I  expected  a  letter." 

That  night  I  went  to  the  post-office  as  usual,  and  the 
next  morning  Miss  Grace  repeated  her  question  : 

"  Did  you  bring  no  letters  for  any  one,  positively  ?" 

"  No,  there  were  only  papers  that  night." 

The  third  night  after  the  receipt  of  my  mysterious  warn- 
ing, however,  there  came  a  letter  for  Grace,  which,  a  little 
to  my  surprise,  was  promptly  handed  over  by  her  mother. 


"Chris,  did  you  bring  any  letters  for  any  one,  except  mother,  last 
night?" — page  18. 

19 


THE  ENEMY  MAKES  A  MOVE.  21 

Whether  this  was  the  expected  missive  or  not  it  threw  the 
young  lady  into  unmistakable  raptures. 

Amy  was  coming !  Amy  Holmes ;  she  would  be  at  the 
station  to-morrow,  and  Grace  must  go  in  the  carriage  to 
meet  her. 

Everybody  was  pleased  except  Fred  Ballon.  Mrs. 
Ballon  heartily  expressed  her  satisfaction,  and  announced 
that  I  should  drive  with  Grace  to  "  the  station ;"  and  Ann, 
the  "  help,"  became  quite  animated. 

But  Fred  scornfully  declined  his  mother's  proposition, 
that  he  should  ride  to  town  with  his  sister  and  myself. 

"Catch  me,"  he  sniifed,  "for  that  stuck-up  town  girl; 
she  was  always  putting  ideas  into  Grace's  head ;  and — he 
hated  girls  anyway.  Arid  hoped  some  one  would  just  carry 
Amy  Holmes  off  as  they  did  Nellie  Ewing." 

Whereupon  Grace  turned,  first  pale,  then  scarlet,  and 
lastly,  flew  at  her  brother  and  boxed  his  ears  soundly. 

The  next  day  we  went  as  per  programme  to  the  town, 
ten  miles  distant,  where  Miss  Holmes  would  be.  She  had 
arrived  before  us,  and  was  waiting. 

She  was  a  handsome,  showy-looking  girl,  stylishly 
dressed,  and  very  self-possessed  in  manner;  evidently  a 
girl  who  knew  something  of  town  life. 

We  found  her  beguiling  the  time  of  waiting  by  conver- 
sation with  a  well-dressed,  handsome  young  fellow,  who 
was  evidently  a  prime  favorite  with  both  young  ladies.  He 
accompanied  them  while  they  went  about  making  certain 


22  OUT  OF  A  LABYRIXTH. 

purchases  that  Mrs.  Ballon  had  charged  her  daughter  not 
to  forget,  and  then  he  assisted  them  into  the  carriage,  while 
I  stowed  away  their  bundles,  shook  their  hands  at  parting, 
and  stood  gazing  after  them  as  the  carriage  rolled  away,  the 
very  model  of  a  young  Don  Juan,  I  thought. 

I  had  hoped  to  gain  something  from  my  ten-mile  drive 
with  the  two  young  ladies  sitting  behind  me.  I  had 
learned  that  Miss  Holmes  was  a  friend  of  the  Ewings,  and 
also  of  Mamie  Rutger,  and  as  she  had  not  been  in  the  vicinity 
since  these  young  ladies  had  vanished,  what  more  natural 
than  that  she  should  talk  very  freely  of  their  mysterious 
fate,  and  might  not  these  girl  friends  know  something, 
say  something,  that  in  my  hands  would  prove  a  clue? 

But  I  was  disappointed;  during  the  long  drive  the  names 
of  Nellie  Ewing  and  Mamie  Rutger  never  once  passed  their 
lips.  Indeed,  save  for  a  few  commonplaces,  these  two 
young  ladies,  who  miglit  be  supposed  to  have  so  much  to 
say  to  each  other,  never  talked  at  all. 

I  had  driven  the  steady  old  wrork  horses  in  going  for 
Miss  Holmes,  and  so  when  night  came,  a  feeling  of  human- 
ity prompted  me  to  buckle  the  saddle  upon  a  young  horse 
scarcely  more  than  half  broken,  and  set  oft'  upon  his  back 
for  the  post-office. 

It  was  a  little  later  than  usual,  and  by  the  time  I  had 
accomplished  the  first  half  of  my  journey,  stowred  away 
the  usual  newspapers,  and  remounted  my  horse,  it  was 
fully  dark;  and  I  rode  slowly  through  the  gloom,  think- 


ENEMY  MAKES  A  MOVE.  '2'3 

ing  that  Groveland  was  ambitious  indeed  to  bring  the  mail 
every  day  from  a  railway  ten  miles  dista?  t,  -ind  wonder- 
ing what  it  would  be  like  to  be  the  mail  boy,  and  jog  over 
that  same  monotonous  twenty  miles  of  fetching  and  carry- 
ing every  day. 

I  had  now  reached  a  high  hedge  that  assured  me  that  my 
homeward  journey  was  half  accomplished,  when,  from  an 
imaginary  inland  mail  boy,  I  was  suddenly  transformed 
into  an  actual,  crippled  John  Gilpin.  From  out  the  black- 
ness of  the  hedge  came  a  flash  and  a  sharp  report ;  my  horse 
bounded  under  me,  my  left  arm  dropped  helpless,  and  then 
I  was  being  borne  over  the  ground  as  if  mounted  upon  a 
whirlwind ! 

It  was  useless,  to  command,  useless  to  strive  with  my 
single  hand  to  curb  the  frightened  beast.  It  was  a  miracle 
that  I  did  not  lose  my  seat,  for  at  first  I  reeled,  and  feeling 
the  flow  of  blood,  feared  a  loss  of  consciousness.  But  that 
swift  rush  through  the  dewy  evening  air  revived  me,  and 
rallied  my  scattered  senses. 

As  we  dashed  on,  I  realized  that  my  life  had  been  at- 
tempted, and  that  the  would-be  assassin,  the  abductor  or 
destroyer  of  the  two  missing  girls,  had  been  very  near  me; 
that  but  for  the  unruly  beast  I  rode  I  might  perhaps  have 
returned  his  little  compliment;  at  least  have  found  some 
trace  of  him. 

My  horse  kept  his  mad  pace  until  he  had  reached  his 
own  barn-yard  gate,  and  then  he  stopped  so  suddenly  as  to 
very  nearly  unseat  me. 


24  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

I  quickly  decided  upon  my  course  of  action,  and  now, 
dismounting  and  merely  leading  my  horse  into  the  inclosure, 
I  went  straight  to  the  house.  I  knew  where  to  find  Mrs. 
Ballou  at  that  hour,  and  was  pretty  sure  of  finding  her 
alone. 

As  I  had  anticipated,  she  was  seated  in  her  own  room, 
where  she  invariably  read  her  evening  papers  in  soli- 
tude. I  entered  without  ceremony,  and  much  to  her 
surprise. 

But  I  was  not  mistaken  in  her ;  she  uttered  no  loud  ex- 
clamation, either  of  anger  at  my  intrusion,  or  of  fright  a-t 
sight  of  my  bleeding  arm.  She  rose  swiftly  and  came 
straight  up  to  me. 

Before  she  could  ask  a  question,  I  motioned  her  to  be 
silent,  and  closed  the  door  carefully.  After  which,  with- 
out any  of  my  foreign  accent,  I  said  : 

"  Mrs.  Ballou,  a  woman  who  can  manage  a  great  farm 
and  coin  money  in  the  cattle  trade,  can  surely  keep  a  secret. 
Will  you  bind  up  my  arm  while  I  tell  you  mine?" 

"What!"  she  exclaimed,  starting  slightly;  "you  are 
not  a—" 

"Not  a  Swede?  No,  madame,"  I  replied  ;  "I  am  a  de- 
tective, and  I  have  been  shot  to-night  by  the  hand  that  has 
struck  at  the  happiness  of  'Squire  Ewing  and  his  neighbor." 

The  splendid  woman  comprehended  the  situation  in- 
stantly. 

"Sit  there,"  she  said,  pointing  to  her  own  easy  chair. 


"From  out  the  blackness  of  Ihe  liedne  rnme  fi  flash  and  a  sharp 
report;  my  horse  bounded  under  me,  my  left  arm  dropped  help- 
less."— page  23. 

*2  25 


THE  EXEMY  MAKES  A  MOVE.  27 

"  And  don't  talk  any  more  now.  I  shall  cut  away  your 
sleeve." 

"  Can  yon  ?"  I  asked,  deprecatingly. 

"Can  I?"  contemptuously;  "I  bleed  my  cattle." 

I  smiled  a  little  in  spite  of  myself;  then — 

"  Consider  me  a  colt,  a  heifer,  anything,"  I  said,  resign- 
edly. "  But  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  bled  enough." 

"I  should  think  so,"  she  replied,  shortly.  "Now  be 
still ;  it's  lucky  that  you  came  to  me." 

I  thought  so  too,  but  obedient  to  her  command,  I  "  kept 
still." 

She  cut  away  coat  and  shirt  sleeves;  she  brought  from 
the  kitchen  tepid  water  and  towels,  and  from  her  own  es- 
pecial closet,  soft  linen  rags.  She  bathed,  she  stanched,  she 
bandaged ;  it  proved  to  be  only  a  flesh  wound,  but  a  deep  one. 

"Now  then,"  she  commanded  in  her  crisp  way,  when  all 
was  done,  and  I  had  been  refreshed  with  a  very  large  glass 
of  wine,  "tell  me  about  this." 

"  First,"  I  said,  "  your  colt  stands  shivering  yet,  no  doubt, 
and  all  dressed  in  saddle  and  bridle,  loose  in  the  stable- 
yard." 

"  Wait,"  she  said,  and  hurried  from  the  room. 

In  a  few  moments  she  came  back. 

"  The  colt  is  in  his  stable,  and  no  harm  done,"  she  an- 
nounced, sitting  down  opposite  me.  "How  do  you  feel?" 

"A  little  weak,  that  is  all.  Now,  I  will  tell  you  all 
about  it." 


28  OUT  OF  A.  LABYRINTH. 

In  the  fewest  words  possible,  I  told  my  story,  and  ended 
by  saying: 

"Mrs.  Ballon,  yon,  as  a  woman,  will  not  be  watched  or 
suspected;  may  I  leave  with  yon  the  task  of  telling  'Squire 
Ewing  and  Mr.  Ilntger  what  has  happened  to  me?" 

"Yon  may,"  with  decision. 

"And  I  must  get  away  from  here  before  others  know  how 
much  or  little  I  am  injured.  Can  your  woman's  wit  help 
me?  I  want  it  given  out  that  my  arm  is  broken.  Do  you 
comprehend  me?" 

"  Perfectly.  Then  no  one  here  must  sec  you,  and — you 
should  have  that  wound  dressed  by  a  good  surgeon,  I  think. 
There  is  a  train  to  the  city  to-morrow  at  seven.  I  will  get 
up  in  the  morning  at  three  o'clock,  make  us  a  cup  of  coffee, 
harness  the  horses,  and  drive  you  to  Sharon." 

"You?"  I  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  I !  Why  not  ?  It's  the  only  way.  And  now, 
would  you  mind  showing  me  that  letter?" 

I  took  it  from  my  pocket-book  and  put  it  in  her  hand. 
She  read  it  slowly,  and  then  looked  up. 

"  Why  did  you  not  heed  this  warning?"  she  asked. 

"  Because  I  wanted  to  find  out  what  it  meant." 

"Well,  you  found  out,"  sententiously.  "Now,  go  to 
bed,  but  first  let  me  help  you  remove  that  coat." 

"  Mrs.  Ballon,  you  are  a  woman  in  a  thousand,"  I  ex- 
claimed, as  I  rose  to  receive  her  assistance.  "And  I  don't 
see  how  I  can  ever  repay  you.  You  are  your  own  reliance." 


Why  did  you  not  heed  this  warning?"  she  asked — page  28. 

29 


THE  ENEMY  MAKES  A  MOVE.  31 

As  I  spoke,  the  coat  fell  from  my  shoulder  and  my  hand 
touched  the  weapon  in  my  pistol  pocket. 

She  saw  it,  too,  and  pointing  to  it,  said : 

"  I  have  never  owned  a  pistol,  because  I  could  not  buy 
one  without  letting  Fred  know  it;  he  is  always  with  me  in 
town.  If  you  think  I  have  earned  it  give  me  that." 

"  Gladly/'  I  said,  drawing  out  the  small  silver-mounted 
six-shooter;  "  it  is  loaded,  every  barrel.  Can  you  use  it?" 

"Yes;  I  know  how  to  use  firearms." 

"Then  when  you  do  use  it,  if  ever,  think  of  me."  I 
laughed. 

"  I  will,"  she  said,  quite  soberly. 

And  little  either  of  us  dreamed  how  effectively  she  would 
use  it  one  day. 

The  next  morning,  at  half-past  three,  we  drove  out  of 
the  farm,  yard,  en  route  for  the  railway  station. 

During  our  drive,  we  talked  like  two  men,  and  when  we 
parted  at  Sharon  we  were  very  good  friends.  .  I  dropped 
her  work-hardened  hand  reluctantly,  and  watched  her 
drive  away,  thinking  that  she  was  the  only  really  sensible 
woman  I  had  ever  known,  and  feeling  half  inclined  to  fall 
in  love  with  her  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  was  tweiity- 
five  years  my  senior. 


32  OUT  OF  A  LABYKiNTH. 


CHAPTER  III. 

SCENTING  A  MYSTERY. 

That  is  how  I  chanced  to  be  rolling  city-ward  on  that 
phlegmatic,  oft-stopping,  slow  going,  accomodation  train, 
and  that  is  why  I  was  out  of  temper,  and  out  of  tune. 

My  operation  had  been  retarded.  Instead  of  working 
swiftly  on  to  a  successful  issue,  this  must  be  a  case  of  wait- 
ing, of  wit  against  wit,  and  I  must  report  to  my  chief  a 
a  balk  in  the  very  beginning. 

Nevertheless,  as  I  said  in  the  outset,  fifty  miles  of  mon- 
otonous rumble,  together  with  the  soothing  influence  of  a 
good  cigar,  had  blunted  the  edge  of  my  self-disgust;  my 
arm  was  quite  easy,  only  warning  me  now  and  then  that  it 
was  a  crippled  arm;  I  was  beginning  to  feel  phlegmatic 
and  comfortable. 

I  had  formed  a  habit  of  not  thinking  about  my  work 
when  the  thinking  would  be  useless,  and  there  was  little 
room  for  effective  thought  in  this  case.  My  future  move- 
ments were  a  foregone  conclusion.  So  I  rested,  and  fell 
almost  asleep,  and  then  it  was  that  the  single  passenger  of 
whom  I  made  mention,  came  on  board. 

I  had  not  noticed  the  name  of  the  station,  but  as  I  roused 


SCENTING  A  MYSTERY.  S3 

myself  and  looked  out,  I  saw  that  we  were  moving  along 
the  outskirts  of  a  pretty  little  town,  and  then  I  turned  my 
eyes  toward  the  new  passenger. 

He  was  com  ing  down  the  aisle  to  wards  me,  and  was  a  plain, 
somewhat  heavy-featured  man,  with  a  small,  bright,  twink- 
ling eye.  Certainly  it  was  not  a  prepossessing  countenance, 
biit,  just  as  certainly,  it  was  an  honest  one.  He  was 
dressed  in  some  gray  stuff,  the  usual  "second  best"  of  a 
thriving  farmer  or  mechanic,  and  might  have  been  either. 

By  the  time  I  had  arrived  at  this  stage  in  my  observa- 
tions, there  was  rustle  and  stir  behind  me,  and  a  man  who 
had  been  lounging,  silent,  moveless,  and,  as  I  had  supposed, 
asleep,  stretched  forward  a  brown  fist,  exclaiming : 

"  Hallo,  old  boy !   Stop  right  here.    Harding,  how  are  ye  ?" 

Of  course  the  "old  boy"  stopped.  There  was  the  usual 
hand  shaking,  and  mutual  exclamations  of  surprise  and 
pleasure,  not  unmixed  with  profanity.  Evidently  they 
had  been  sometime  friends  and  neighbors,  and  had  not 
met  before  for  years. 

They  talked  very  fast  and,  it  seemed  to  me,  unnecessarily 
loud;  the  one  asking,  the  other  answering,  questions  con- 
cerning a  certain  village,  which,  because  it  would  not  be 
wise  to  give  its  real  name  we  will  call  Trafton. 

Evidently  Trafton  was  the  station  we  had  just  left,  and 
where  we  took  on  this  voluble  passenger.  They  talked 
of  its  inhabitants,  its  improvements,  its  business ;  of  births, 
and  deaths,  and  marriages.  It  was  very  uninteresting;  I 


34  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

was  beginning  to  feel  bored,  and  was  meditating  a  change 
of  seat  when  the  tone  of  the  conversation  changed  some- 
what, and,  before  I  could  sufficiently  overcome  my  laziness 
to  move,  I  found  myself  getting  interested. 

"  No,  Trafton  ain't  a  prosperous  town.  For  the  few  rich 
ones  it's  well  enough,  but  the  poor — well,  the  only  ones 
that  prosper  are  those  who  live  without  work." 

"Oh!  the  rich?" 

"No!  the  poor.     'Nuffsaid." 

"Oh!  I  see;  some  of  the  old  lot  there  yet;  wood  piles 
suffer?" 

"  Wood  piles  !" 

"  And  hen  roosts." 

"Hen  roosts!"  in  a  still  deeper  tone  of  disgust. 

"Clothes  lines,  too,  of  course." 

"  Clothes  lines!"  Evidently  this  was  the  last  straw. 
"Thunder  and  lightning,  man,  that's  baby  talk;  there's 
more  deviltry  going  on  about  Trafton  than  you  could  scoop 
up  in  forty  ordinary  towns." 

"  No !  you  don't  tell  me.     What's  the  mischief?" 

"Well,  it's  easy  enough  to  tell  what  the  mischief  is,  but 
where  it  is,  is  the  poser ;  but  there's  a  good  many  in  Trafton 
that  wouldn't  believe  you  if  you  told  them  there  was  no 
such  thing  as  an  organized  gang  oi  marauders  near  the 
place." 

"An  organized  gang!" 
'      "Yes,  sir." 


SCENTING  A  MYSTERY.  35 

"But,  good  Lord,  that's  pretty  strong  for  Trafton.  Do 
you  believe  it  ?" 

"  Rather,"  with  Yankee  dryness. 

"  Well,  I'm  blessed !  Come,  old  man,  tell  us  some  of  the 
particulars.  What  makes  you  suspect  blacklegs  about  that 
little  town?" 

"  I've  figured  the  thing  down  pretty  close,  and  I've  had 
reason  to.  The  thing  has  been  going  on  for  a  number  of 
years,  and  I've  been  a  loser,  and  ever  since  the  beginning 
it  has  moved  like  clock-work.  Five  years  ago  a  horse  thief 
had  not  been  heard  of  in  Trafton  for  Lord  knows  how  long, 
until  one  night  Judge  Barnes  lost  a  valuable  span,  taken 
from  his  stable,  slick  and  clean,  and  never  heard  of  after- 
wards. Since  then,  from  the  town  and  country,  say  for 
twenty-five  miles  around,  they  have  averaged  over  twenty 
horses  every  year,  and  they  are  always  the  very  best ;  picked 
every  time,  no  guess  work." 

The  companion  listener  gave  a  long,  shrill  whistle,  and 
I,  supposed  by  them  to  be  asleep,  became  very  wide  awake 
and  attentive. 

"But,"  said  the  astonished  man,  "you  found  some  of 
them?" 

"No,  sir;  horses  that  leave  Trafton  between  two  days 
never  come  back  again." 

"Good  Lord!" 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  and  then  the  Traftonite 
said: 


'36  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"  But  that  ain't  all ;  we  can  beat  the  city  itself  for  bur- 
glars." 

"  Burglars,  too !" 

"Yes,  burglars!"  This  the  gentleman  emphasized  very 
freely.  "And  cute  ones;  they  never  get  caught,  and  they 
seldom  miss  a  figure." 

"How's  that?" 

"They  always  know  where  to  strike.  If  a  man  goes 
away  to  be  absent  for  a  night  or  two,  they  know  it  If  a 
man  draws  money  from  the  bank,  or  sells  cattle,  they  know 
that.  And  if  some  of  our  farmers,  who  like  to  go  home 
drunk  once  in  a  while,  travel  the  road  alone,  they  are  liable 
to  be  relieved  of  a  part  of  their  load." 

"And  who  do  the  folks  suspect  of  doing  the  mischief?" 

"  They  talk  among  themselves,  and  very  carefully,  about 
having  suspicions  and  being  on  the  watch ;  but  very  few 
dare  breathe  a  name.  And  after  all,  there  is  no  clear  reason 
for  suspecting  anyone." 

"But  you  suspect  some  one,  or  I  miss  my  guess." 

"Well,  and  so  I  do,  but  I  ain't  the  man  to  lay  myself 
liable  to  an  action  for  damages,  so  I  say  nothing,  but  I'm 
watching" 

Little  more  was  said  on  the  subject  that  interested  me, 
and  presently  the  Traftonite  took  leave  of  his  friend,  and 
quitted  the  train  at  a  station,  not  more  than  twenty  miles 
east  of  Trafton;  the  other  was  going  to  the  city,  like  my- 
self. 


"  But  that  ain't  all;   we  can  beat  the  city  itself  for  burglars." — 
page  36. 

37 


SCENTING  A  MYSTERYo  39 

When  quiet  was  restored  in  my  vicinity,  I  settled  myself 
for  a  fresh  cogitation,  and  now  I  gave  no  thought  to  the 
fate  of  Mamie  Rutger  and  'Squire  Ewing's  daughter.  My 
mind  was  absorbed  entirely  with  what  I  had  just  heard. 

The  pretty,  stupid-looking  little  town  of  Trafton  had 
suddenly  become  to  me  what  the  great  Hippodrome  is  to 
small  boys,  I  wanted  to  see  it;  I  wanted  to  explore  it, 
and  to  find  the  mainspring  that  moved  its  mystery. 

The  words  that  had  fallen  from  the  lips  of  the  Trafton 
man,  had  revealed  to  my  practiced  ear  a  more  comprehen- 
sive story  than  lie  had  supposed  himself  relating. 

Systematic  thieving  and  burglary  for  five  years !  System- 
atic, and  always  successful.  What  a  masterful  rogue  must 
be  the  founder  of  this  system !  How  secure  he  must  be  in 
his  place,  and  his  scheming,  and  what  a  foeman  to  en- 
counter. It  would  be  something  to  thwart,  to  baffle,  and 
bring  to  justice  a  villain  of  such  caliber. 

After  a  while  my  thoughts  turned  back  to  Groveland. 
Certainly  the  mystery  there  was  quite  as  deep,  and  the  solu- 
tion of  it  of  more  vital  importance.  But — Groveland  was 
the  mystery  that  I  had  touched  and  handled ;  Trafton  was 
the  mystery  unseen. 

So  my  mind  returned  to  the  latter  subject,  and  when, 
hours  later,  we  ran  into  the  city,  Groveland  was  still  ab- 
sent, and  Trafton  present,  in  my  thoughts* 


40  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CHARTERING    A  DUMMY. 

By  the  time  I  reached  the  c'ity  my  arm,  which  needed 
fresh  bandages,  began  to  pain  me;  and  I  went  straight  to 
the  office  of  a  surgeon,  well-known  to  fame,  and  to  the  de- 
tective service.  He  had  bound  up  many  a  broken  bone  for 
our  office,  and  we  of  the  fraternity  called  him  "Our  Samari- 
tan." Some  of  the  boys,  and,  let  me  confess  it,  myself 
among  the  number,  called  him  "Our  old  woman,"  as  well, 
for,  while  he  bandaged  and  healed  and  prescribed,  he  waged 
continued  warfare  upon  our  profession,  or  rather  the  dan- 
gers of  it. 

Of  course,  the  country  needed  secret  service  men,  and 
must  have  them,  but  there  was  an  especial  reason  why  each 
one  of  us  should  not  be  a  detective.  We  were  too  young, 
or  too  old;  we  were  too  reckless,  or  we  were  cut  out  for 
some  other  career.  In  short,  every  patient  that  came  under 
the  hand  of  good  Dr.  Denham,  became  straightway  an 
object  of  interest  to  his  kindly  old  heart;  and — strange 
weakness  in  a  man  of  his  cloth — he  desired  to  keep  us  out 
of  danger. 

"So  ho!"  cried  "our  old  woman/'  when  I  appeared  be-- 


"So!     Got  shot  again  ?     Go  on.  go  on,  sir!     I'll   have  the   pleas- 
ure of  dissecting  you  yet." — page  43. 

41 


CHARTERING  A  DUMMY.  43 

fore  him  with  my  bandaged  arm,  "here  you  are!  I  knew 
you'd  be  along  soon.  You've  kept  out  of  my  clutches  a 
good  while.  Arm,  eh  ?  Glad  of  it !  I'll  cut  it  off;  I'll  cut 
it  off!  That'll  spoil  one  detective." 

I  laughed.  We  always  laughed  at  the  talkative  soul,  and 
lie  expected  it. 

"  Cut  it  off,  then,"  I  retorted,  flinging  myself  down  in  a 
chair  and  beginning  to  remove  my  sling.  "I  don't  need  a 
left  arm  to  shoot  the  fellow  that  gave  me  this,  and  I'm 
bound  to  do  that,  you  know." 

"So!  Got  shot  again?  Go  on,  go  on,  sir!  I'll  have 
the  pleasure  of  dissecting  you  yet.  You'll  come  home  dead 
some  day,  you  scoundrel.  Ah!  here  we  are.  Urn!  flesh 
wound,  rear  of  arm,  under  side ;  close,  pretty  close,  pret-ty 
close,  sir!" 

All  this  was  jerked  out  in  short  breaths,  while  he  was 
undoing  and  taking  a  first  look  at  my  arm.  When  the 
actual  business  of  dressing  commenced,  "our  old  woman" 
was  always  silent  and  very  intent  upon  the  delicate  task. 

"Pity  it  wasn't  a  little  worse,"  he  sniffled,  moving  across 
the  room  and  opening  a  case  of  instruments.  "  You  chaps 
get  off  too  easy ;  you  don't  come  quite  near  enough  to 
Death's  door.  There's  Carnes,  now;  got  a  knife  through 
his  shoulder,  and  fretting  and  fuming  because  he  can't  put 
himself  in  a  position  to  get  another  dig." 

"Is  Carnes  in?" 

"Yes.     And  was  badly  cut. 


44  OUT  OP  A  LABYRINTH. 

"  Poor  fellow !  I'm  sorry  for  that,  but  glad  of  the  chance 
to  see  him;  he's  been  on  a  long  cruise." 

"  Well,  I'm  not  so  sure  about  his  going  on  another.  Now 
then." 

And  the  doctor  applied  himself  to  business,  and  I  sat, 
wincing  sometimes,  under  his  hand,  but  thinking  through  it 
all  of  Games. 

He  was  the  comique  of  the  force ;  a  man  who  was  either 
loved  or  hated  by  all  who  knew  him.  Xo  one  could  be 
simply  indifferent  to  Carnes.  He  was  a  well-educated  man, 
although  he  habitually  .spoke  with  a  brogue.  But  I  knew 
Carnes  was  not  an  Irishman  ;  although  he  professed  to  have 
"hailed  from  Erin,"  he  could  drop  the  accent  at  pleasure 
and  assume  any  other  with  perfect  ease, — a  feat  rather 
difficult  of  accomplishment  by  a  genuine  Irishman. 

Nobody  knew  much  about  Carnes;  he  had  no  confidants, 
although  he  had  his  favorites,  one  of  whom  I  chanced  to  be. 

He  was  older  than  myself  by  ten  years,  but  when  the 
mood  seized  him,  could  be  younger  by  twenty.  He  had 
been  absent  from  the  office  for  nearly  a  year,  and  I  mentally 
resolved  that,  after  making  my  report  and  attending  to 
business,  I  would  lose  no  time  in  seeing  him. 

Under  the  skilled  hand  of  Dr.  Denham  my  arm  was 
soon  dressed  and  made  comfortable.  It  would  be  well  in 
a  fortnight,  the  good  doctor  assured  me,  and  then  as  soon  as 
I  could,  I  withdrew  from  his  presence  and  his  customary 
fire  of  raillery  and  questions,  and  stopping  only  to  refresh 


CHARTERING  A  DUMMY.  45 

myself  at  a  restaurant  by  the  way,  hastened  on  toward  our 
office,  where  I  was  soon  closeted  with  my  Chief. 

As  usual,  he  made  no  comments,  asked  no  questions, 
when  I  dawned  upon  him  thus  unexpectedly.  He  never 
made  use  of  unnecessary  words.  He  only  turned  out  one 
or  two  of  the  force  who-  were  lounging  there,  waiting  his 
pleasure  to  attend  to  less  important  business,  saw  that  the 
doors  were  closed  and  the  outer  office  properly  attended, 
and  then  seating  himself  opposite  me  at  the  desk,  said 
quietly: 

"Xow,  Bathurst?" 

I  was  well  accustomed  to  this  condensed  way  of  doing 
things,  and  it  suited  me.  In  a  concise  manner  matching 
his  own,  I  put  him  in  possession  of  the  facts  relating  to  the 
Groveland  case,  and  then  I  made  a  discovery.  After  re- 
lating how  I  had  received  the  anonymous  letter  I  produced 
my  pocket-book,  where  I  supposed  it  to  be,  and  found  it 
missing!  It  was  useless  to  search;  the  letter  was  not  in 
my  pocket-book,  neither  was  it  on  my  person. 

"Well !"  I  said,  when  fully  convinced  that  the  letter  was 
certainly  not  in  my  possession,  "here's  another  complica- 
tion. I've  been  robbed  and — I  know  who  did  it !" 

My  companion  made  no  comment,  and  I  continued : 

"The  letter  was  of  no  vital  importance;  I  will  finish  my 
story  and  then  you  will  know  what  has  become  of  it." 

I  told  the  rest ;  of  my  ride  upon  Mrs.  Ballou's  colt,  of 
the  pistol  shot,  my  runaway  steed,  and  my  subsequent  in- 


46  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

lerview  with  Mrs.  Ballon.  How  she  had  dressed  my  wound, 
how  the  circumstances  had  compelled  me  to  confide  in  her, 
and  how  she  had  risen  to  the  occasion,  and  driven  me  to 
the  station  at  half-past  three  in  the  morning,  and  1  finished 
by  saying: 

"  Now  it  looks  to  me  as  if  Mrs.  Ballon  had  stolen  my 
letter,  and  if  so,  one  might  take  that  fact  and  the  one  that 
Nellie  Ewing  was  never  seen  after  leaving  her  house,  and 
count  it  as  strong  circumstantial  evidence;  but,  that  kind 

*  o  *  * 

of  evidence  won't  convince  me  that  Mrs.  Ballon  is  impli- 
cated in  the  crime  or  the  mystery.  AVhen  1  told  her  of  the 
printed  letter,  I  saw  her  eyes  gleam;  and  when  she  asked 
to  see  the  document  I  read  anxiety  in  her  face.  I  am  siite 
she  took  the  letter,  and  I  think  she  has  a  suspicion  of  some 
sort;  but  if  she  has  the  letter  she  will  return  it." 

My  chief  made  no  comment  on  all  that  I  had  told  him; 
he  picked  up  a  paper  weight  and  laid  it  down  again  with 
great  precision,  then  he  put  all  my  story  "on  the  shelf," 
as  we  were  wont  to  express  it,  by  asking  abruptly: 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  next?" 

The  question  did  not  surprise  me.  He  was  not  in  the 
habit  of  offering  much  advice  to  such  operatives  as  he 
trusted  with  delicate  cases,  for  he  never  trusted  a  man  until 
he  felt  full  confidence  in  his  skill  and  integrity.  But 
when  we  desired  to  consult  with  him,  he  entered  into  the 
study  of  the  case  with  animation  and  zeal ;  and  then,  and 
then  only,  did  he  do  a  full  share  of  the  talking. 


CHARTERING  A  DUMMY.  47 

"  Going  to  send  them  a  'dummy/  if  we  can  find  one  with 
the  grit  to  face  the  chances.  They  must  suppose  me  en- 
tirely out  of  the  business." 

"  Yes." 

"I  want  an  extraordinary  dummy,  too;  a  blusterer." 

"  Wait,"  interrupted  my  companion,  beginning  to  smile, 
"I  have  got  just  the  animal.  When  do  you  want  to  see 
him  ?" 

"As  soon  as  possible;  I  want  him  in  the  field  at 
once." 

"Very  good.  This  fellow  came  here  yesterday,  and 
he's  the  greatest  combination  of  fool  and  egotist  I  ever 
saw.  Knows  he  was  born  for  a  detective  and  is  ready  to 
face  a  colony  of  desperadoes;  there  is  no  limit  to  his  cheek 
and  no  end  to  his  tongue.  If  you  want  a  talkative  fool 
he'll  do." 

"Well,"  I  replied,  "  that's  what  I  want,  but  the  man 
must  not  be  quite  destitute  of  courage.  I  don't  think  that 
the  party  or  parties  will  make  another  attack  upon  a  fresh 
man,  and  yet  they  may;  and  this  dummy  must  remain 
there  quite  alone  until  the  rascals  are  convinced  that  he  has 
no  confederates.  There  is  a  keen  brain  at  the  bottom  of 
this  Groveland  mischief.  I  mean  to  overreach  it  and  all 
its  confederates,  for  I  believe  there  must  be  confederates; 
and,  sir,  I  don't  believe  those  girls  have  been  murdered." 

"No?" 

"No.     But  I  want  our  dummy  to  act  on  the  supposition 


48  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

that  they  have  been.  This  will  ease  the  vigilance  of  the 
guilty  parties,  and  when  they  are  off  their  guard,  our  time 
will  come.  AVhere  is  Carnes?" 

My  companion  was  in  full  sympathy  with  my  abrupt 
change  of  the  subject,  and  he  answered,  readily: 

"At  his  old  rooms.  Carues  had  a  bad  cut,  but  he  is 
getting  along  finely." 

"Is  he?  The  doctor  gave  me  the  idea  that  he  was  still 
in  a  doubtful  condition." 

"Stuff,"  giving  a  short  laugh,  "some  of  his  scarey  talk; 
he  told  me  that  Carnes  would  be  about  within  two  weeks. 
Carnes  did  some  good  work  in  the  West." 

"He  is  a  splendid  fellow;  I  must  see  him  to-night. 
But  about  our  dummy:  when  can  you  produce  him?" 

"Will  to-morrow  do?  say  ten  o'clock." 

"  It  must  be  later  by  an  hour;  the  doctor  takes  me  in  hand 
at  ten." 

"Eleven,  then.  I  will  have  him  here,  and  you'll  find 
him  a  jewel." 

"Very  good,"  I  said,  rising,  and  taking  up  my  hat, 
"any  message  to  send  to  Carnes?  I  shall  see  him  to- 
night." 

"Look  here,"  turning  upon  me  suddenly,  "you  are  not 
to  go  to  Carnes  for  any  purpose  but  to  see  him.  You  must 
not  talk  to  him  much,  nor  let  him  talk;  the  doctor  should 
have  told  you  that.  He  is  weak,  and  easily  excited.  It's 
bad  enough  to  have  two  of  my  best  men  crippled  and  off  at 


CHARTERING  A  DUMMY.  49 

once ;  you  must  not  retard  his  recovery.  Carnes  is  as  unruly 
as  a  ten-year  old,  now." 

I  laughed;  I  could  see  just  how  this  whimsical  comrade 
of  mine  would  chafe  under  his  temporary  imprisonment. 

"  I  won't  upset  the  old  fellow,"  F  .-aid.  and  took  my  leave. 
4  *3 


50  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  V. 

EN  ROUTE  FOR  TRAFTON. 

Over  the  minor  events  of  my  story  I  will  not  linger,  for 
although  they  cannot  be  omitted  altogether,  they  are  still 
so  overshadowed  by  startling  and  thrilling  after  events  that 
they  may,  with  propriety,  be  narrated  in  brief. 

I  saw  Carnes,  and  found  that  the  Chief  had  not  exag- 
gerated, and  that  the  doctor  had. 

Carnes  was  getting  well  very  fast,  but  was  chafing  like 
a  caged  bear,  if  I  may  use  so  ancient  an  illustration. 

We  compared  notes  and  sympathized  with  each  other, 
and  then  we  made  some  plans.  Of  course  we  were  off  duty 
for  the  present,  and  could  be  our  own  masters.  Carnes 
had  been  operating  in  a  western  city,  and  I  proposed  to  him 
a  change.  I  told  him  of  the  conversation  I  had  overheard 
that  morning,  and  soon  had  him  as  much  interested  in 
Trafton  as  was  myself.  Then  I  said : 

"  Now,  old  man,  why  not  run  down  to  that  little  paradise 
of  freebooters  and  see  what  we  think  of  it  ?" 

"Begorra  and  that'll  jist  suit  me  case,"  cried  Carnes,  who 
was  just  then  in  his  Hibernian  mood.  "And  it's  go  we 
will  widen  the  wake." 

But  go  "widen  the  wake"  we  did  not. 


"Now,  old  man,  why  not  run   down  to  that  little  paradise  of 
freebooters  and  see  what  we  think  of  it?" — pace  50. 

51 


EN  ROUTE  FOR  TRAFTON.  53 

We  were  forced  to  curb  our  impatience  somewhat,  for 
Carnes  needed  a  little  more  strength,  and  my  arm  must  be 
free  from  Dr.  Denham's  sling. 

We  were  to  go  as  Summer  strollers,  and,  in  order  to  come 
more  naturally  into  contact  with  different  classes  of  the 
Traftonites,  I  assumed  the  role  of  a  well-to-do  Gothamite 
with  a  taste  for  rural  Summer  sports,  and  Carnes  made  a 
happy  hit  in  choosing  the  character  of  half  companion,  half 
servant;  resolving  himself  into  a  whole  Irishman  for  the 
occasion. 

It  was  a  fancy  of  his  always  to  operate  in  disguise,  so  for 
this  reason,  and  because  of  his  pallor,  and  the  unusual  length 
of  his  hair  and  beard,  he  chose  to  take  his  holiday  en 
naturale,  and  most  unnatural  he  looked  to  me,  who  had 
never  seen  him  in  ill-health. 

As  for  me,  I  preferred  on  this  occasion  to  adopt  a  light 
disguise. 

In  spite  of  the  warning  of  our  Chief,  but  not  in  defiance 
of  it,  I  talked  Carnes  into  a  fidget,  and  even  worked  my- 
self into  a  state  of  enthusiasm.  Of  course  I  made  no  men- 
tion of  the  Groveland  case;  we  never  discussed  our  private 
operations  with  each  other;  at  least,  not  until  they  were 
finished  and  the  finale  a  foregone  conclusion. 

After  bidding  Carnes  good-night,  I  sauntered  leisurely 
homeward,  if  a  hotel  may  be  called  home,  and  the  ring  of 
a  horse's  hoofs  on  the  pavement  brought  to  my  mind  my 
wild  ride,  Groveland,  and  Mrs.  Eallou. 


54  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

Why  had  she  stolen  that  letter  of  warning?  That  she 
had  I  felt  assured.  Did  she  give  her  true  reason  for  wishing 
my  revolver?  Would  she  return  my  letter?  And  would 
she,  after  all,  keep  the  secret  of  my  identity? 

I  did  not  flatter  myself  that  I  was  the  wonderful  judge  of 
human  nature  some  people  think  themselves,  but  I  did  be- 
lieve myself  able  to  judge  between  honest  and  dishonest 
faces,  and  I  had  judged  Mrs.  Ballon  as  honest. 

So  after  a  little  I  was  able  to  answer  my  own  questions. 
She  would  return  my  letter.  She  could  keep  a  secret,  and 
— she  would  make  good  use,  if  any,  of  my  weapon. 

It  was  not  long  before  my  judgment  of  Mrs.  Ballon,  in 
one  particular  at  least,  was  verified. 

On  the  morning  after  my  interview  with  Carnes,  I  saw 
the  man  who  was  destined  to  cover  himself  with  glory  in 
the  capacity  of  "  Dummy,"  and  here  a  wrord  of  explanation 
may  be  necessary. 

Sometimes,  not  often,  it  becomes  expedient,  if  not  ab- 
solutely necessary,  for  a  detective  to  work  under  a  double 
guard.  It  is  not  always  enough  that  others  should  not 
know  him  as  a  detective ;  it  is  required  that  they  should  be 
doubly  deluded  by  fancying  themselves  aware  of  who  is, 
hence  the  dummy. 

But  in  this  narrative  I  shall  speak  in  brief  of  the 
dummy's  operations.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  lie  was  just 
the  man  for  the  place;  egotistical,  ignorant,  talkative 
to  a  fault-  and  thoroughly  imbued,  as  all  dummies  should 


EX  EOUTE  FOR  TRAFTON.  55 

be,  with  the  idea  that  he  was  "born  for  a  detective." 
Of  course  he  was  not  aware  of  the  part  he  was  actually 
to  play.  He  was  instructed  as  to  the  nature  of  the  case, 
given  such  points  as  we  thought  he  would  make  best  use 
of,  and  told  in  full  just  what  risk  he  might  run. 

But  our  dummy  was  no  coward.  He  inspected  my 
wounded  arm,  expressed  himself  more  than  ready  to  take 
any  risk,  promised  to  keep  within  the  bounds  of  safety 
after  nightfall,  and  panted  to  be  in  the  field. 

Just  one  day  before  our  departure  for  Trafton  I  received 
a  letter  from  Mrs.  Ballon.  Enclosed  with  it  was  my  lost 
note  of  warning.  Its  contents  puzzled  me  not  a  little.  It 
ran  thus: 

DEAR  SIR — I  return  you  the  letter  I  took  from  your  pocket  the 
morning  you  left  us.  You  did  not  suspect  me  of  burglary,  did  you? 
Of  course  you  guessed  the  truth  when  you  came  to  miss  it.  I 
thought  it  might  help  me  to  a  clue,  but  was  wrong.  /  can  not 
use  it. 

If  anything  new  or  strange  occurs,  it  may  be  to  your  interest  to 
inform  me  first  of  all. 

The  time  may  come  when  you  can  doubly  repay  the  service  I 
rendered  you  not  long  since.  If  so,  remember  me.  I  think  I  shall 
come  to  the  city  soon. 

Respectfully,  etc.,  M.  A.  BALLOT; 

P.  S. — Please  destroy. 

From  some  women  such  a  letter  might  have  meant 
simply  nothing.  From  Mrs.  Ballou  it  was  fraught  with 
meaning. 


56  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

How  coolly  she  waived  the  ceremony  of  apology  !  She 
wanted  the  letter — she  took  it ;  a  mere  matter  of  course. 

And  as  a  matter  of  course,  she  returned  it. 

Thus  much  of  the  letter  was  straight-forward,  and 
suited  me  well  enough ;  but 

"/  thought  it  might  help  me  to  a  clue,  but  teas  wrong.     I 

CAN  NOT  USE  IT." 

Over  these  words  I  pondered,  and  then  I  connected 
them  with  the  remainder  of  the  letter.  Mrs.  Ballon  was 
clever,  but  she  was  no  diplomatist.  She  had  put  a  thread 
in  my  hands. 

I  made  some  marks  in  a  little  memorandum  book,  that 
would  have  been  called  anything  but  intelligible  to  the 
average  mortal,  but  that  were  very  plain  language  to  my 
eye,  and  to  none  other.  Next  I  put  a  certain  bit  of  in- 
formation in  the  hands  of  my  Chief;  then  I  turned  my 
face  toward  Trafton. 

To  my  readers  the  connection  between  the  fate  of  the 
two  missing  girls,  and  the  mysterious  doings  at  Trafton, 
may  seem  slight. 

To  my  mind,  as  we  set  out  that  day  for  the  scene  of  a 
new  operation,  there  seemed  nothing  to  connect  the  two; 
I  was  simply,  as  I  thought,  for  the  time  being,  laying  down 
one  thread  to  take  up  another. 

A  detective  has  not  the  gift  of  second  sight,  and  without 
this  gift  how  was  I  to  know  that  at  Trafton  I  was  to  find 
my  clue  to  the  Groveland  mystery,  and  that  that  mystery 


EN  KOUTE  FOR  TRAFTON.  57 

was  in  its  turn  to  shed  a  light  upon  the  dark  doings  of 
Trafton,  and  aid  justice  in  her  work  of  requital? 

So  it  is.  Out  of  threads,  divers  and  far-fetched,  Fate 
loves  to  weave  her  wonderful  webs. 

And  now,  for  a  time,  we  leave  Groveland  with  the 
shadow  upon  it.  We  leave  the  shadow  now  ;  later  it  comes 
to  us. 

For  the  present  we  are  en  route  for  Trafton. 


58  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

JIM  LONG. 

"Trafton?"  said  Jim  Long,  more  familiarly  known  as 
Long  Jim,  scratching  his  head  reflectively,  "can't  remem- 
ber just  how  long  I  did  live  in  Trafton ;  good  sight 
longer'n  I'll  live  in  it  any  more,  I  calk  late ;  green,  oh, 
drctfnl  green,  when  I  come  here;  in  fact  mem'ry  had'nt 
de-welluped;  wasn't  peart  then  like  lam  now.  But  I 
ain't  got  nothin'  to  say  agin'  Trafton,  /ain't,  tho'  there  be 
some  folks  as  has.  Thar's  Knrnel  Brookhouse,  now,  he's  bin 
scalped  severial  times ;  then  thar's — hello  !" 

Jim  brought  his  rhetoric  up  standing,  and  lowered  one 
leg  hastily  off  the  fence,  where  he  had  been  balancing  like 
a  Chinese  juggler. 

At  the  same  moment  a  fine  chestnut  horse  dashed  around 
a  curve  of  the  road,  bear  ing  a  woman,  who  rode  with  a  free 
rein,  and  sat  as  if  born  to  the  saddle.  She  favored  Jim 
with  a  friendly  nod  as  she  flew  past,  and  that  worthy  re- 
sponded with  a  delighted  grin  and  no  other  sign  of  recog- 
nition. 

When  she  had  disappeared  among  the  trees,  and  the 
horse's  hoofs  could  scarcely  be  heard  on  the  hard  dry  road, 


JIM  LONG.  59 

Jim  drew  up  his  leg,  resumed  his  former  balance,  and  went 
on  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

"  There  was  Kurnel  Brookhouse  and — " 

"The  mischief  fly  away  wid  old  Brookhouse,"  broke  in 
Carncs,  giving  the  fence  a  shake  that  nearly  unseated  our 
juggler.  "'Who's  the  purty  girl  as  bowed  till  yee's? 
That's  the  question  on  board  now." 

"Look  here,  Mr.  Ireland,"  expostulated  Jim,  getting 
slowly  off  the  fence  backward,  and  affecting  great  timidity 
in  so  doing,  "ye  shouldn't  shake  a  chap  that  way  when 
he's  practisin'  jimnasti — what's  its  name?  It's  awful  un- 
safe." 

And  he  assured  himself  that  his  two  feet  were  actually 
on  terra,  firma  before  he  relinquished  his  hold  upon  the 
top  rail  of  the  fence.  Then  turning  toward  Games  he 
asked,  with  a  most  insinuating  smile : 

"Wasn't  you  askin'  something?" 

"That's  jist  what  I  was,  by  the  powers,"  cried  Carnes, 
as  if  his  fate  hung  upon  the  answer.  "  Who  is  the  leddy  ? 
be  dacent,  now." 

We  had  been  some  two  weeks  in  Trafton  when  this 
dialogue  occurred,  and  Jim  Long  was  one  of  our  first  ac- 
quaintances. Carnes  had  picked  him  up  somewhere  about 
town;  and  the  two  had  grown  quite  friendly  and  intimate. 

Long  was  a  character  in  the  eyes  of  Carnes,  and  was 
gradually  developing  into  a  genius  in  mine.  Jim  was,  to 
all  outward  appearances,  the  personification  of  laziness, 


60  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

candor,  good  nature,  and  a  species  of  blundering  waggish- 
ness;  but  as  I  grew  to  know  him  better,  I  learned  to  respect 
the  irony  under  his  innocent  looks  and  boorish  speeches, 
and  I  soon  found  that  he  possessed  a  faculty,  and  a  fond- 
ness, for  baffling  and  annoying  Game's,  that  delighted  me; 
for  Games  was,  like  most  indefatigible  jokers,  rather  non- 
plussed at  having  the  tables  turned. 

Jim  never  did  anything  for  a  livelihood  that  could  be 
discovered,  but  he  called  himself  a  "Hoss  Fysician,"  and 
indeed  it  was  said  that  he  could  always  be  trusted  with  a 
horse,  if  he  could  be  induced  to  look  at  one.  But  he  had 
his  likes  and  dislikes,  so  he  said,  and  he  would  obstinately 
refuse  to  treat  a  horse  toward  which  he  had  what  he  called 
"  onfriendly  feelin's." 

Jim  could  tell  us  all  there  was  to  tell  concerning  the 
town  of  Trafton.  It  was  only  necessary  to  set  him  going; 
and  no  story  lost  anything  of  spirit  through  being  told 
by  him. 

He  was  an  oracle  on  the  subjects  of  fishing  and  hunting; 
indeed,  he  was  usually  to  be  found  in  the  companionship  of 
gun  or  fishing  rod. 

Fortunately  for  us,  Trafton  had  rare  facilities  for  sports 
of  the  aforementioned  sort,  and  we  gathered  up  many  small 
items  while,  in  the  society  of  Long  Jim,  we  scrambled 
through  copses,  gun  in  hand,  or  whipped  the  streams,  and 
listened  to  the  heterogenous  mass  of  information  that  flowed 
from  his  ready  tongue. 


"Look  here,   Mr.  Ireland,"  expostulated   Jim,    "ye   shouldn't 
shake  a  chap  that  way." — page  59. 

61 


JIM  LONG.  63 

But  the  spirit  of  gossip  was  not  always  present  with  Jim. 
Sometimes  he  was  in  an  argumentative  mood,  and  then 
would  ensue  the  most  astounding  discussions  between  him- 
self and  Carnes.  Sometimes  he  was  full  of  theology,  and 
then  his  discourse  would  have  enraptured  Swing,  and  out- 
Heroded  Ingersoll,  for  his  theology  varied  with  his  moods. 
Sometimes  he  was  given  to  moralizing,  and  then  Carnes 
was  in  despair. 

Jim  lived  alone  in  a  little  house,  or  more  properly, 
"cabin,"  something  more  than  a  mile  from  town.  He 
had  a  small  piece  of  ground  which  he  called  his  "  farm," 
and  all  his  slight  amount  of  industry  was  expended 
on  this. 

"Who  is  the  leddy,  I  tell  yee's?"  roared  Carnes,  who,  I 
may  as  well  state  here,  had  introduced  himself  to  the 
Traftonites  as  Barney  Cooley.  "Bedad,  a  body  would 
think  she  was  your  first  shwateheart  by  the  dumbness  av 
yee's!" 

"And  so  she  air,"  retorted  Jim  with  much  solemnity. 
"Don't  you  go  ter  presoomin',  Mr.  Ireland.  That  are  Miss 
Manvers,  as  lives  in  the  house  that's  just  a  notch  bigger'n 
Kurnel  Brookhouse's ;  and  her  father  was  Captain  Man- 
vers, as  went  down  in  the  good  ship  Amy  Audrey,  and  left 
his  darter  that  big  house,  and  a  bigger  fortune  dug  out  'en 
a  treasure-ship  on  the  coast  uv — " 

"  Stop  a  bit,  long  legs,"  interposed  Carnes,  or  Barney,  as 
we  had  better  call  him,  "  was  it  a  threasure-ship  yee's  wur 


64  OUT  OF  A  LABYKLNTH. 

hatch  in'  when  it  tuck  yee's  so  long  to  shun  out  yer  little 
sthory?" 

"Well,  then,  Erin,  tell  your  own  stories,  that's  all.  If 
yer  wan't  ter  kick  over  one  uv  the  institooshuns  uv  Trafton, 
why,  wade  in." 

But  Games  only  shook  his  head,  and  lying  at  full  length 
upon  the  ground  feigning  great  pain,  groaned  at  intervals : 

"  Oh  !  h !  h !  threasure-ship !" 

"  But,  Long,"  I  interposed,  "  does  this  young  lady,  this 
Miss  Mauvers,  sanction  the  story  of  a  treasure  from  the 
deep,  or  is  it  only  a  flying  rumor?" 

"It'sflyin'  enough,"  retorted  Jim,  soberly.  "It's  in 
everybody's  mouth ;  that  is,  everybody  as  has  an  appetite 
for  flyin'  rumors.  And  I  never  knew  of  the  lady  con- 
tradictin'  it,  nuther.  The  facks  is  jest  these,  boss.  There's 
Miss  Manvers,  and  there's  the  big  house,  and  the  blooded 
horses,  an'  all  the  other  fine  things  that  I  couldn't  begin 
to  interduce  by  their  right  names.  They're  facts,  as  any- 
body can  see.  There  seems  to  be  plenty  o'  money  backin' 
the  big  house  an'  other  big  fixiiis,  an'  /  ain't  agoiu'  to  be 
oudacious  enough  ter  say  there  ain't  a  big  treasure-ship 
backin7  up  the  whole  business.  Now,  I  ain't  never  seen 
'em,  an'  I  ain't  never  seen  anyone  as  has,  not  bein'  much 
of  a  society  man ;  but  folks  say  as  Miss  Manvers  has  got 
the  most  wonderfullest  things  dug  out  o'  that  ship;  old 
coins,  heaps  of  'em ;  jewels  an'  aunteeks,  as  they  call  'em, 
that  don't  hardly  ever  see  daylight.  One  thing's  certain : 


JIM  LONG.  65 

old  Manvers  come  here  most  six  years  ago;  he  dressed, 
looked,  and  talked  like  a  sailor;  he  bought  the  big  house, 
fitted  it  up,  an'  left  his  daughter  in  it.  Then  he  went  away 
and  got  drowned.  They  say  he  made  his  fortune  at  sea, 
and  it's  pretty  sartin  that  he  brought  some  wonderful  things 
home  from  the  briny.  Mebbe  you  had  better  go  up  to  the 
Hill,  that's  Miss  Manvers'  place,  and  interduce  yourself, 
and  ask  for  the  family  history,  Mr.  'Exile  of  Erin,' "  con- 
cluded Jim,  with  a  grin  intended  to  be  sarcastic,  as  he  seated 
himself  011  a  half  decayed  stum}),  and  prepared  to  fill  his 
pipe. 

"Bedad,  an'  so  I  will,  Long  Jim,"  cried  Barney,  spring- 
ing up  with  alacrity.  u  An'  thank  ye  kindly  for  mintiouin' 
it.  "When  will  I  find  the  leddy  at  home,  then?" 

Parti)  to  avert  the  tournament  which  I  saw  was  about 
to  break  out  afresh  between  the  two,  and  partly  through 
interest  in  the  fair  owner  of  the  treasure-ship  spoils,  I  in- 
terposed once  more. 

"  Miss  Manvers  must  be  a  fair  target  for  fortune-hunters, 
Long;  are  there  any  such  in  Trafton?" 

"  Wall,  now,  that's  what  some  folks  says,  tho'  I  ain't  goin' 
ter  lay  myself  liable  tei  an  action  fer  slander.  There's  lovers 
enough ;  it  ain't  easy  tellin'  jest  what  they  air  after.  There's 
young  Mr.  Brookhousc;  now,  his  pa's  rich  enough ;  he  ain't 

no  call  to  go  fortin  huntin'  There's  a  lawyer  from  G , 

too,  and  a  young  'Piscopal  parson ;  then  there's  our  new 
young  doctor.  I  ain't  hcarn  anyone  say  anythin*  about 

6 


66  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

him;  but  I've  seen  'em  together,  and  I  makebold  ter  say 
that  he's  anuther  on  'em.  Seen  the  young  doctor,  ain't 
ye?"  turning  to  me  suddenly  with  ;he  last  question. 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  carelessly  ;  "he  dines  at  the  hotel." 

"Just  so,  and  keeps  his  own  lodgin'  house  in  that  little 
smit  on  a  cottage  across  the  creek  on  the  Brookhouse  farm 
road." 

"Oh,  does  he?" 

"  Yes.  Queer  place  for  a  doctor,  some  think,  but  bless 
you,  it's  as  central  as  any,  when  you  come  ter  look.  Traf- 
ton  ain't  got  any  heart,  like  most  towns;  you  can't  tell  where 
the  middle  of  it  is.  It's  as  crook  id  as — its  reputation." 

Not  desiring  to  appear  over  anxious  concerning  the 
reputation  of  Trafton,  I  continued  my  queries  about  the 
doctor.. 

"He's  new  to  Trafton,  I  think  you  said?" 

"Yes,  bran  new;  too  new.  We  don't  like  new  things, 
we  don't;  have  to  learn  'em  afore  we  like  'em.  We  don't 
like  the  new  doctor  like  we  orter." 

"  We,  Long?     Don't  you  like  Dr.  Bethel  ?" 

"  Well,  speakin'  as  an  individual,  I  like  him  fust  rate. 
I  wuz  speakin'  as  a  good  citizen,  ye  see ;  kind  o'  identify-in' 
myself  with  the  common  pulse,"  with  an  oratorical 
flourish. 

"  Oh,  I  do  see,"  I  responded,  laughingly. 

"Yis,  we  see!"  broke  in  Barney,  who  had  bridled  his 
tongue  all  too  long  for  his  own  comfort.  "  He's  run n in' 


JIM  LONG.  67 

fur  office,  is  Jim;  he's  afther  wantin'  to   be  alderman." 

"  Ireland,"  retorted  Long,  in  a  tone  of  lofty  admonition, 
"  we're  talkin'  sense,  wot  nobody  expects  ye  to  understand. 
Hold  yer  gab,  won't  yer  ?" 

Thus  admonished,  Barney  relapsed  into  silence,  and  Jim, 
who  was  now  fairly  launched,  resumed: 

"  Firstly,"  said  he,  "  thedoctor's  a  leetle  too  good  lookin', 
don't  you  think  so  ?" 

"  Why,  he  is  handsome,  certainly,  but  it's  in  a  mas- 
sive way;  he  is  not  effeminate  enough  to  be  too  hand- 
some." 

"That's  it,"  replied  Long,  disparagingly;  "he ain't  our 
style.  Our  style  is  curled  locks,  cuimin'  little  moustachys, 
little  hands  and  feet,  and  slim  waists.  Our  style  is  more 
ruffles  to  the  square  futof  shirt  front,  and  more  chains  and 
rings  than  this  inteilopin'  doctor  wears." 

"  Our  sthylc !  Och,  murther,  hear  him !"  groaned 
Carnes,  in  a  stage  aside.  . 

"  His  manners  ain't  our  style,  nuther,"  went  on  Long, 
lugubriously.  "  We  always  has  a  bow  and  a  smile  fur  all, 
rich  an  poor  alike,  exceptin'  now  and  then  a  no  count  per- 
son what  there's  no  need  uv  wastin'  politeness  on.  He 
goes  along  head  up,  independenter  nor  Fouth  o'  July.  He 
don't  make  no  distiiicshun  between  folks  an'  folks,  like  a 
man  orter.  I've  seen  him  bow  jist  the  same  bow  to  old 
Granny  Sanders,  as  lives  down  at  the  poor  farm,  and  to 
Parson  Radcliffe,  our  biggest  preachin'  gun.  Now,  that's 


68  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

no  way  fer  a  man  ter  do  as  wants  ter  live  happy  in  Traf- 
ton;  it  ain't  our  way." 

A  mighty  groan  from  Barney. 

"  He's  got  a  practice,  though,"  went  on  Jim,  utterly  ig- 
noring the  apparent  misery  of  his  would-be  tormentor. 
"Somehow  he  manages  to  cure  folks  as  some  of  our  old 
doctors  can't.  I  reckon  a  change  o'  physic's  good  fer  folks, 
same's  a  change  o'  diet — " 

"  Or  a  clane  shirt,"  broke  in  Games,  with  an  insinuating 
glance  in  the  direction  of  Jim's  rather  dingy  linen. 

"Eggsackly,"  retorted  Long,  turning  back  his  cuffs  with 
great  care  and  glancing  menacingly  at  his  enemy — "  er  a 
thrashin'." 

"Gentlemen,"  I  interposed,  "let  us  have  peace.  And 
tell  me,  Jim,  where  may  we  find  your  model  Traftonite, 
your  hero  of  the  curls,  moustaches,  dainty  hands,  and  dis- 
criminating politeness?  I  have  not  seen  him." 

"AVhar?"  retorted  Long,  in  an  aggrieved  tone,  "look 
here,  boss,  you  don't  think  /ever  mean  anythin'  personal 
by  my  remarks?  I'd  sworn  it  were  all  that  way  when  you 
come  ter  notice.  The  average  Traftonite's  the  sleekest, 
pertiest  chap  on  earth.  We  wuz  born  so." 

Some  more  demonstrations  in  pantomime  from  Games, 
and  silence  fell  upon  us.  I  knew  from  the  way  Long 
smoked  at  his  pipe  and  glowered  at  Games  that  nothing 
more  in  the  way  of  information  need  be  expected  from  him. 
He  had  said  enough,  or  too  much,  or  something  he  had  not 


JIM  LONG.  69 

intended  to  say ;  he  looked  dissatisfied,  and  soon  \ve  sepa- 
rated, Long  repairing  to  his  farm,  and  Carnes  and  I  to  our 
hotel,  all  in  search  of  dinner. 

"We  won't  have  much  trouble  in  finding  the  ' Average 
Traftonite/  old  man,"  I  said,  as  we  sauntered  back  to  town. 

No  answer;  Carnes  was  smoking  a  huge  black  pipe  and 
gazing  thoughtfully  on  the  ground. 

"  I  wonder  if  any  attempt  has  been  made  to  rob  Miss 
Manvers  of  those  treasure-ship  jewels,"  I  ventured  next. 

"Umph!" 

"Or  of  her  blooded  horses.  Carnes,  what's  your  opin- 
ion of  Long?" 

Carnes  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  turned  upon 
me  two  serious  eyes.  When  I  saw  the  expression  in  them 
I  knew  he  was  ready  to  talk  business. 

"Honor  bright?"  he  queried,  without  a  trace  of  his 
Irish  accent. 

"Honor  bright." 

o 

"Well,"  restoring  his  pipe  and  puffing  out  a  black  cloud, 
"he's  an  odd  fish!" 

"Bad?" 

"He's  a  fraud!" 

"As  how?" 

"Cute,  keen,  has  played  the  fool  so  long  he  sometimes 
believes  himself  one.  Did  you  notice  any  little  discrep- 
ancies in  his  speech? 

"Well,  rather." 


70  OUT  OP  A  LABYRINTH. 

"Nobody  else  ever  would,  I'll  be  bound  ;  not  the 
'Average  Traftonite,'  at  least.  That  man  has  not  always 
been  at  odds  with  the  English  grammar,  mark  me.  "What 
do  you  think,  Bathurst  ?" 

"  I  think,"  responded  I,  soberly,  "  that  we  shall  find  in 
him  an  ally  or  an  enemy." 

We  had  been  sauntering  "  across  lots,"  over  some  of  the 
Brookhouse  acres,  and  we  now  struck  into  a  path  leading 
down  to  the  highway,  that  brought  us  out  just  opposite  the 
cottage  occupied  by  Dr.  Bethel. 

As  we  approached,  the  doctor  was  leaning  over  the  gate 
in  conversation  with  a  gentleman  seated  in  a  light  road 
wagon,  whose  face  was  turned  away  from  us. 

As  we  came  near  he  turned  his  head,  favoring  us  with 
a  careless  glance,  and,  as  I  saw  his  face,  I  recognized  him 
as  the  handsome  young  gallant  who  had  attended  the  friend 
of  Miss  Grace  Ballon,  on  the  occasion  of  that  friend's  visit 
to  the  Ballou  farm,  and  who  had  bidden  the  ladies  such  an 
impressive  good-bye  as  I  drove  them  away  from  the  vil- 
lage station. 

Contrary  to  my  first  intention  I  approached  the  gate, 
and  as  I  drew  near,  the  young  man  gathered  up  his  reins 
and  nodding  to  the  doctor  drove  away. 

Dr.  Bethel  and  myself  had  exchanged  civilities  at  our 
hotel,  and  I  addressed  him  in  a  careless  way  as  I  paused 
at  the  gate. 

"That's  a  fine  stepping  horse,  doctor,"  nodding   after 


JIM  LONG.  71 

• 

the  receding    turn-out;  uis    it    owned    in    the    town?" 
"Yes,"  replied  the  doctor;  "that  is  young  Brookhouse, 
or  rather  one  of  them.     There  are  two  or  three  sons;  they 
all  drive  fine  stock." 

I  was  passing  in  the  town  for  a  well-to-do  city  young 
man  with  sporting  propensities,  and  as  the  doctor  swung 
open  the  gate  and  strode  beside  me  toward  the  hotel, 
Carnes  trudging  on  in  advance,  the  talk  turned  quite 
naturally  upon  horses,  and  horse  owners. 

That  night  I  wrote  to  Mrs.  Ballon,  stating  that  I  had 
nothing  of  much  moment  to  impart,  but  desired  that  she 
would  notify  me  several  days  in  advance  of  her  proposed 
visit  to  the  city,  as  I  wished  to  moot  her.  This  letter  I 
sent  to  our  office  to  be  forwarded  to  Grovelaud  from  thence. 


72  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  VIL 

WE  ORGANIZE. 

"We  had  not  been  long  in  Trafton  before  our  reputation 
as  thoroughly  good  fellows  was  well  established,  "  each  man 
after  his  kind." 

Carnes  entered  with  zest  into  the  part  he  had  undertaken. 
He  was  hail  fellow  well  met  with  every  old  bummer  and 
corner  loafer;  he  made  himself  acquainted  with  all  the  gos- 
sippers  and  possessed  of  all  the  gossip  of  the  town. 

After  a  little  he  began  to  grow  somewhat  unsteady  in  his 
habits,  and  under  the  influence  of  too  much  liquor,  would 
occasionally  make  remarks,  disparaging  or  otherwise  as 
the  occasion  warranted,  concerning  me,  and  so  it  came  about 
that  I  was  believed  to  be  a  young  man  of  wealth,  the  pos- 
sessor of  an  irascible  temper,  but  very  generous;  the  victim 
of  a  woman's  falseness ; — but  here  Carnes  always  assured 
people  that  he  did  not  know  "the  particulars,"  and  that,  if 
it  came  to  my  ears  that  he  had  "mentioned"  it,  it  would  cost 
him  his  place,  etc. 

These  scraps  of  private  history  were  always  brought  for- 
ward by,  or  drawn  out  of,  him  when  he  was  supposed  to 
be  "the  worse  for  liquor."  In  his  "sober"  moments  he  was 
discreetness  itself. 


WE  OEGANIZE.  73 

So  adroitly  did  he  play  his  part  that,  without  knowing 
how  it  came  about,  Trafton  had  accepted  me  at  Games' 
standard,  and  I  found  my  way  made  smooth,  and  myself 
considered  a  desirable  acquisition  to  Trafton  society. 

I  became  acquainted  with  the  lawyers,  the  ministers,  the 
county  officials,  for  Trafton  was  the  county  seat.  I  was 
soon  on  a  social  footing  with  the  Brookhouses,  father  and 
son.  I  made  my  bow  before  the  fair  owner  of  the  treasure- 
ship  jewels;  and  began  to  feel  a  genuine  interest  in,  and 
liking  for,  Dr.  Bethel,  who,  according  to  Jim  Long,  was 
not  Trafton  style. 

Thus  fairly  launched  upon  the  Trafton  tide,  and  having 
assured  ourselves  that  no  one  entertained  a  suspicion  of  our 
masquerade,  we  began  to  look  more  diligently  about  us  for 
fresh  information  concerning  the  depredations  that  had  made 
the  town  attractive  to  us. 

Sitting  together  one  night,  after  Carnes  had  spent  the 
evening  at  an  especially  objectionable  saloon,  and  I  had  re- 
turned from  a  small  social  gathering  whither  I  had  been 
piloted  by  one  of  my  new  acquaintances,  we  began  "taking 
account  of  stock,"  as  Carnes  quaintly  put  it. 

"The  question  now  arises,"  said  Carnes,  dropping  his 
Hibernianisms,  and  taking  them  up  again  as  his  enthu- 
siasm waxed  or  waned.  "The  question  is  this:  What's  in 
our  hand  ?  What  do  wee's  know  ?  What  do  wee's  sur- 
mise, and  what  have  wee's  got  till  find  out?" 

"Very  comprehensively  put,  old  fellow,"  I  laughed, 

*4 


74  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

while  I  referred  to  a  previously  mentioned  note  book. 
"  First,  then,  what  do  we  know  ?" 

"Well,"  replied  Carnes,  tilting  back  his  chair,  "we 
know  more  than  mony  a  poor  fellow  has  known  when  he 
set  out  to  work  up  a  knotty  case.  We  know  we  are  in  the 
field,  bedad.  We  know  that  horses  have  been  stolen,  houses 
broken  open,  robberies  great  and  small  committed  here. 
We  know  they  have  been  well  planned  and  systematic,  en- 
gineered by  a  cute  head." 

Carnes  stopped  abruptly,  and  looked  over  as  if  he  ex- 
pected me  to  finish  the  summing  up. 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "we  knew  all  that  in  the  beginning; 
now  for  what  we  have  picked  up.  First,  then,  just  run 
your  eye  over  this  memorandum;  I  made  it  out  to-day,  and, 
like  a  love  letter,  it  should  be  destroyed  as  soon  as  read. 
Here  you  have,  as  near  as  I  could  get  them,  the  names  of 
the  farmers  who  have  lost  horses,  harness,  buggies,  etc. 
Here  is  the  average  distance  of  their  respective  residences 
from  the  town,  and  their  directions.  Bo  you  see  the 
drift?" 

Carnes  rubbed  the  bridge  of  his  nose ;  a  favorite  habit. 

"No,  be  the  powers,"  he  ejaculated  ;  "St.  Patrick  him- 
self couldn't  see  the  sinse  o'  that." 

"  Very  good.  Now,  here  is  a  map  of  this  county.  On 
this  map,  one  by  one,  you  must  locate  those  farms." 

"Bother  the  location,"  broke  in  Carnes,  impatiently. 
"Serve  it  up  in  a  nutshell.  What's  the  point?" 


WE  ORGANIZE.  75 

"  The  point,  then,  is  this,"  drawing  the  map  toward  me. 
"The  places  where  these  robberies  have  been  committed, 
are  all  in  certain  directions.  Look;  east,  northeast,  west, 
north  ;  scarce  one  south,  southeast,  or  southwest.  Hence, 
I  conclude  that  these  stolen  horses  are  run  into  some  ren- 
dezvous that  is  not  more  than  a  five  hours'  ride  from  the 
scene  of  the  theft." 

"  The  dickens  ye  do!"  muttered  Carnes,  under  his  breath. 

"Again,"  I  resumed,  perceiving  that  Carnes  was  be- 
coming deeply  interested,  and  very  alert,  "  the  horses,  etc., 
have  been  stolen  from  points  ten,  twelve,  twenty  miles, 
from  Trafton  ;  the  most  distant,  so  far  as  I  have  found  out, 
is  twenty-two  miles." 

"Ar-m-m-m?"  from  Carnes. 

"Now,  then,  let  us  suppose  the  robbers  to  be  living  in 
this  town.  They  leave  here  at  nine,  ten,  or  later  when  the 
distance  is  short.  They  ride  fleet  horses.  At  midnight, 
let  us  say,  the  robbery  is  committed.  The  horses  must  be 
off  the  road,  and  safe  from  prying  eyes,  before  morning, 
and  must  remain  perdu  until  the  search  is  over.  What, 
then  ?  The  question  is,  do  the  robbers  turn  them  over  to 
confederates,  in  order  to  get  safely  back  to  the  town  under 
cover  of  the  night ;  or,  is  the  hiding-place  so  near  that  no 
change  is  necessary  ?" 

I  paused  for  a  comment,  but  Carnes  sat  mute. 

"Now,  then,"  I  resumed,  "I  am  supposing  this  lair  of 
horse-thieves  to  be  somewhere  south,  or  nearly  south,  of 


76  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

the   town,   and   not    more    than    thirty   miles    distant." 

"  Umph !" 

"I  suppose  it  to  be  south,  or  nearly  south,  for  obvious 
reasons.  Don't  you  see  what  they  are?" 

"  Niver  mind  ;  prache  on." 

"  No  horses  have  been  taken  from  the  south  road,  or 
from  any  of  the  roads  that  intersect  it  from  this.  I  infer 
that  it  is  used  as  an  avenue  of  escape  for  the  marauding 
bands.  Consequently — " 

"  We  must  make  the  acquaintance  of  that  north  and 
south  highway,"  broke  in  Carnes. 

"Just  so;  and  we  must  begin  a  systematic  search  from 
this  out," 

"  System's  the  word,"  said  Carnes,  jerking  his  chair  close 
to  the  table,  upon  which  he  planted  his  elbows.  "  Now, 
then,  let's  organize." 

It  was  nearly  day-break  before  we  knocked  the  ashes 
from  our  pipes,  preparatory  to  closing  the  consultation,  and 
when  we  separated  to  refresh  ourselves  with  a  few  hours' 
sleep,  we  were  so  thoroughly  "organized"  that  had  we  not 
found  another  opportunity  for  private  consultation  during 
our  operations  in  Trafton,  we  could  still  have  gone  on  with 
the  programme,  as  we  had  that  night  arranged  it,  without 
fear  of  blunder  or  misunderstanding. 

"  You  came  down  upon  me  so  sudden  and  solemn  with 
your  statistics  and  all  that,  last  night,"  said  Carnes,  the 


"  System's  the  word,"  said  Games,  jerking  his  chair  close  to 
the  table,  upon  winch  he  planted  his  elbows.  "Now,  iben,  let's 
organize." — page  76. 

77 


WE  ORGANIZE.  79 

following  morning,  "  that  I  entirely  forgot  to  treat  you  to 
a  beautiful  little  Trafton  vagary  I  was  saving  for  your 
benefit.  They  do  say  that  the  new  doctor  is  suspected  of 
being  a  detective!" 

"  What!"  I  said,  in  sincere  amazement;  "  Games,  that's 
one  of  Jim  Long's  notions." 

"Yis,  but  it  isn't,"  retorted  Carnes.  "I  haven't  seen 
Jim  Long  this  day.  D'ye  mind  the  chap  ye  seen  me  in 
company  with  last  evening  early?" 

"  The  loutish  chap  with  red  hair  and  a  scarred  cheek  ?" 

"That's  him;  well,  his  name  is  Tom  Briggs,  and  he's 
a  very  close-mouthed  fellow  when  he's  sober ;  to-day  he 
was  drunk,  and  he  told  me  in  confidence  that  some  folks 
looked  upon  Dr.  Bethel  as  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a 
detective,  on  the  lookout  for  a  big  haul  and  a  big  reward." 

"What  is  this  Briggs?" 

"  He's  a  sort  of  a  roust-about  for  'Squire  Brookhouse, 
but  the  'squire  don't  appear  to  work  him  very  hard." 

"  Carnes,"  I  said,  after  a  moment  of  silence  between  us, 
"hadn't  you  better  cultivate  Briggs?" 

"  Like  enough  I  had,"  he  replied,  nonchalantly.  Then 
turning  slowly  until  he  faced  me  squarely  "  If  I  were  you, 
I  would  give  a  little  attention  to  Dr.  Bethel" 


80  OUT  Qff  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  RESURRECTION. 

Two  weeks  passed,  during  which  time  Carnes  and  I 
worked  slowly  and  cautiously,  but  to  some  purpose. 

Having  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  here  was  the  place 
to  begin  our  search  for  the  robbers,  we  had  still  failed  in 
finding  in  or  about  Trafton  a  single  man  upon  whom  to 
fix  suspicion. 

After  thoroughly  analyzing  Trafton  society,  high  and 
low,  I  was  obliged  to  admit  to  Carnes,  'spite  of  the  statement 
made  by  the  worthy  farmer  on  board  the  railway  train  that 
"  the  folks  as  prospered  best  were  those  who  did  the  least 
work,"  that  I  found  among  the  poor,  the  indolent  and  the 
idle,  no  man  capable  of  conducting  or  aiding  in  a  prolonged 
series  of  high-handed  robberies. 

The  only  people  in  Trafton  about  whom  there  seemed 
the  shadow  of  strangeness  or  mystery,  were  Dr.  Bethel  and 
Jim  Long. 

Dr.  Bethel  had  lived  in  Trafton  less  than  a  year ;  he  was 
building  up  a  fine  practice;  was  dignified,  independent, 
uncommunicative.  He  had  no  intimates,  and  no  one 
knew,  or  could  learn,  aught  of  his  past  history.  He  was  a 


A  KESUKRECTION.  81 

regularly  authorized  physician,  a  graduate  from  a  well- 
known  and  reliable  school.  He  was  unmarried  and  seemed 
quite  independent  of  his  practice  as  a  means  of  support. 

According  to  Jim  Long,  he  was  "not  Trafton  style," 
and  if  Tom  Briggs  was  to  be  believed,  he  was  "suspected" 
of  making  one  profession  a  cloak  for  the  practice  of  an- 
other. 

Jim  Long  had  been  nearly  five  years  in  Trafton.  He 
had  bought  his  bit  of  land,  built  thereon  his  shanty,  an- 
nounced himself  as  "Hoss  Fysician,"  and  had  loafed  or 
laughed,  smoked  or  fished,  hunted,  worked  and  played,  as 
best  pleased  him;  and  no  one  in  Trafton  had  looked  upon 
him  as  worthy  of  suspicion,  until  Carries  and  I  did  him 
that  honor. 

Up  to  this  time  we  had  never  once  ventured  to  walk  or 
drive  over  that  suspected  south  road.  This  was  not 
an  accident  or  an  oversight,  but  a  part  of  our  "pro- 
gramme." 

We  had  lived  and  operated  so  quietly  that  Carnes  began 
to  complain  of  the  monotony  of  our  daily  lives,  and  to  long, 
Micawber-like,  for  something  to  turn  up. 

"We  had  both  fully  recovered  in  health  and  vigor ;  and  I 
was  beginning  to  fear  that  we  might  be  compelled  to  report 
at  the  agency,  and  turn  our  backs  upon  Trafton  without 
having  touched  its  mystery,  when  there  broke  upon  us  the 
first  ripple  that  was  the  harbinger  of  a  swift,  ourushing  tide 
of  events,  which,  sweeping  across  the  monotony  of  our  days, 


82  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

Caught  us  and  tossed  us  to  and  fro,  leaving  us  no  moment 
of  rest  until  the  storm  had  passed,  and  the  waves  that  rolled 
over  Trafton  had  swept  away  its  scourge. 

One  August  day  I  received  a  tiny  perfumed  note  bidding 
me  attend  a  garden  party,  to  be  given  by  Miss  Manvers 
one  week  from  date.  As  I  was  writing  my  note  of  ac- 
ceptance, Carues  suggested  that  I,  as  a  gentleman  of  means, 
should  honor  this  occasion  by  appearing  in  the  latest  and 
most  stunning  of  Summer  suits  ;  and  I,  knowing  the  effect 
of  fine  apparel  upon  the  ordinary  society-loving  villager, 
decided  to  profit  by  his  suggestions.  So,  having  scaled  and 
despatched  my  missive,  I  bent  my  steps  toward  the  tele- 
graph office,  intent  upon  sending  an  order  to  my  tailor  by 
the  quickest  route. 

The  operator  was  a  sociable  young  fellow,  the  son  of  one 
of  the  village  clergymen,  and  I  sometimes  dropped  in  upon 
him  for  a  few  moments'  chat. 

I  numbered  among  my  varied  accomplishments,  all  of 
which  had  been  acquired  for  use  in  my  profession,  the 
ability  to  read,  by  sound,  the  telegraph  instrument. 

This  knowledge,  however,  I  kept  to  myself,  on  principle, 
and  young  Harris  was  not  aware  that  my  ear  was  drink  ing 
in  his  messages,  as  we  sat  smoking  socially  in  his  little 
operating  compartment. 

After  sending  my  message,  I  produced  my  cigar  case 
and,  Harris  accepting  a  weed,  I  sat  down  beside  him  for  a 
brief  chat. 


A  RESURRECTION.  83 


Presently  the  instrument  called  Trafton,  and  Harris 
turned  to  receive  the  following  message : 

NEW  ORLEANS,  Aug. 

ARCH  BROOKHOUSE — Hurry  up  the  others  or  we  are  likely  to  have 
a  balk.  F.  B. 

Hastily  scratching  off  these  words  Harris  enclosed, 
sealed,  and  addressed  the  message,  and  tossed  it  on  the 
table. 

The  address  was  directly  under  my  eye;  and  I  said, 
glancing  carelessly  at  it: 

"  Arch, — is  not  that  a  rather  juvenile  name  for  such  a 
long,  lean,  solemn-visaged  man  as  'Squire  Brookhouse?" 

Harris  laughed. 

"  That  is  for  the  son,"  he  replied  ;  "  he  is  named  for  his 
father,  and  to  distinguish  between  them,  the  elder  always 
signs  himself  Archibald,  the  younger  Arch." 

"  I  see.     Is  Archibald  Junior  the  eldest  son  ?" 

"  Xo  ;  he  is  the  second.     Fred  is  older  by  four  years." 

"Fred  is  the  absent  one  ?" 

"Fred  and  Louis  are  both  away  now.  Fred  is  in  busi- 
ness in  New  Orleans,  I  think." 

"Ah!  an  enterprising  rich  man's  son." 

"Well,  yes,  enterprising  and  adventurous.  Fred  used  to 
be  a  trifle  wild.  He's  engaged  in  some  sort  of  theatrical 
enterprise,  I  take  it." 

Just  then  there  came  the  sound  of  hurrying  feet  and 
voices  mingling  in  excited  converse. 


84  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

In  another  moment  Mr.  Harris,  the  elder,  put  his  head 
in  at  the  open  window. 

"Charlie,  telegraph  to  Mr.  Beale  at  Swan  Station;  tell 
him  to  come  home  instantly ;  his  little  daughter's  grave 
has  been  robbed !" 

Uttering  a  startled  ejaculation,  young  Harris  turned  to 
his  instrument,  and  his  father  withdrew  his  head  and  came 
around  to  the  office  door. 

"  Good-morning,"  he  said  to  me,  seating  himself  upon  a 
corner  of  the  office  desk.  "This  is  a  shameful  affair,  sir; 
the  worst  that  has  happened  in  Trafton,  to  my  mind. 
Only  yesterday  I  officiated  at  the  funeral  of  the  little  one; 
she  was  only  seven  years  old,  and  looked  like  a  sleeping 
angel,  and  now — " 

He  paused  and  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  fore- 
head. 

"Mrs.  Beale  will  be  distracted,"  said  Charlie  Harris, 
turning  toward  us.  "  It  was  her  only  girl." 

"Beale  is  a  mechanic,  you  see,"  said  the  elder,  addressing 
me.  "  He  is  working  upon  some  new  buildings  at  Swan 
Station." 

"How  was  it  discovered?"  said  his  son. 

"  I  hardly  know  ;  they  sent  for  me  to  break  the  news 
to  Mrs.  Beale,  and  I  thought  it  best  to  send  for  Beale  first. 
The  town  is  working  into  a  terrible  commotion  over  it." 

Just  here  a  number  of  excited  Traftonites  entered  the 
outer  room  and  called  out  Mr.  Harris. 


A  RESURRECTION.  85 

A  moment  later  I  saw  Carnes  pass  the  window ;  he 
moved  slowly,  and  did  not  turn  his  head,  but  I  knew  at 
once  that  he  wished  to  see  me.  I  arose  quietly  and  went 
out.  Passing  through  the  group  of  men  gathered  about 
Mr.  Harris,  I  caught  these  words :  "  Cursed  resurrection- 
ist/' and,  "  I  knew  he  was  not  the  man  for  us." 

Hurrying  out  I  met  Carnes  at  the  corner  of  the  building. 

"  Have  you  heard — "  he  began  ;  but  I  interrupted  him. 

"Of  the  grave  robbery?     Yes." 

"Well,"  said  Carnes,  laying  a  hand  upon  my  arm, 
"  they  arc  organizing  a  gang  down  at  Porter's  store.  They 
are  going  to  raid  Dr.  Bethel's  cottage  and  search  for  the 
body." 

"They're  a  set  of  confounded  fools!"  I  muttered. 
"Follow  me,  Carnes." 

And  I  turned  my  steps  in  the  direction  of  "  Porter's 
store." 


8G  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

MOB  LAW. 

Loftnging  just  outside  the  door  at  Porter's  was  Jirn 
Long,  hands  in  pockets,  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy.  He  was 
smoking  his  favorite  pipe,  and  seemed  quite  oblivious  to 
the  stir  and  excitement  going  on  within.  When  he  saw 
me  approach,  lie  lounged  a  few  steps  toward  me,  then  get- 
ting beyond  the  range  of  Porter's  door  and  window. 

"Give  a  dough-headed  bumpkin  a  chance  to  make  a  fool 
of  himself  an'  he'll  never  go  back  on  it,"  began  Jim,  as  I 
approached.  "  Have  ye  come  ter  assist  in  the  body 
huntin'  ?" 

"  I  will  assist,  most  assuredly,  if  assistance  is  needed," 
E  replied. 

"Well,  then,  walk  right  along  in.     I  guess  Til  go  home." 

"Don't  be  too  hasty,  Jim,"  I  said,  in  a  lower  tone.  "I 
want  to  see  you  in  about  two  minutes." 

Jim  gave  a  grunt  of  dissatisfaction,  but  seated  himself, 
nevertheless,  on  one  of  Porter's  empty  butter  tubs,  that 
stood  just  beside  a  window. 

I  passed  in  and  added  myself  to  the  large  group  of  men 
huddled  close  together  near  the  middle  of  the  long  store, 


MOB  LAW.  87 

and  talking  earnestly  and  angrily,  with  excitement,  fiercely, 
or  foolishly,  as  the  case  might  be. 

The  fire-brand  had  been  dropped  in  among  them,  by 
whom  they  never  could  have  told,  had  they  stopped  once  to 
consider;  but  they  did  not  consider.  Someone  had  hinted 
at  the  possibility  of  finding  the  body  of  little  Effie  Beale 
in  the  possession  of  the  new  doctor,  and  that  was  enough. 
Guilty  or  innocent,  Dr.  Bethel  must  pay  the  penalty  of  his 
reticence,  his  newness,  and  his  independence.  Not  being 
numbered  among  the  acceptable  institutions  of  Trafton,  he 
need  expect  no  quarter. 

It  seemed  that  the  child  had  been  under  his  care,  and 
looking  at  the  matter  from  a  cold-blooded,  scientific  stand- 
point, it  appeared  to  me  not  impossible  that  the  doctor  had 
disinterred  the  body,  and  I  soon  realized  that  should  he  be 
found  guilty,  or  even  be  unable  to  prove  his  innocence,  it 
would  go  hard  with  Dr.  Bethel. 

Among  those  who  cautioned  the  overheated  ones,  and 
urged  prudence,  and  calm  judgment,  was  Arch  Brookhouse; 
but,  somehow,  his  words  only  served  to  add  fuel  to  the 
flame;  while,  chief  among  the  turbulent  ones,  who  urged 
extreme  measures,  was  Tom  Briggs,  and  I  noted  that  he 
was  also  supported  by  three  or  four  fellows  of  the  same 
caliber,  two  of  whom  I  had  never  seen  before. 

Having  satisfied  myself  that  there  was  not  much  time  to 
lose  if  I  wished  to  see  fair  play  for  Dr.  Bethel,  I  turned 
away  from  the  crowd,  unnoticed,  and  went  out* to  where 
Jim  waited. 


88  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"Jim,"  I  said,  touching  him  on  the  shoulder,  "they 
mean  to  make  it  hot  for  Bethel,  and  he  will  be  one  man 
against  fifty — we  must  not  allow  anything  like  that." 

"  Now  ye're  talkin',"  said  Jim,  knocking  the  ashes  from  his 
pipe,and  rising  slowly,  "an'  I'm  with  ye.  What's  yer  idee?" 

"We  must  not  turn  the  mob  against  us,  by  seeming  to 
co-operate,"  I  replied.  "Do  you  move  with  the  crowd, 
Jim;  I'll  be  on  the  ground  as  soon  as  you  are." 

"All  right,  boss,"  said  Jim. 

I  turned  back  toward  the  telegraph  office,  that  being 
midway  between  "Porter's"  and  my  hotel. 

The  men  were  still  there  talking  excitedly.  I  looked  in 
at  the  window  and  beckoned  to  young  Harris.  He  came 
to  me,  and  I  whispered: 

"The  men  at  Porter's  mean  mischief  to  Dr.  Bethel ;  your 
father  may  be  able  to  calm  them;  he  had  better  go  down 
there." 

"He  will,"  replied  Harris,  in  a  whisper,  "and  so  will  I." 

Games  was  lounging  outside  the  office.  I  approached 
him,  and  said: 

"Go  along  with  the  crowd,  Carnes,  and  stand  in  with 
Briggs." 

Carnes  winked  and  nodded,  and  I  went  on  toward  tha 
hotel. 

On  reaching  my  room,  I  took  from  their  case  a  brace  of 
five-shooters,  and  put  the  weapons  in  my  pockets.  Then  I 
went  below  and  seated  myself  on  the  hotel  piazza. 


MOB  LAW.  89 

In  order  to  reach  Dr.  Bethel's  house,  the  crowd  must 
pass  the  hotel ;  so  I  had  only  to  wait. 

I  did  not  wait  long,  however.  Soon  they  came  down 
the  street,  quieter  than  they  had  been  at  Porter's,  but  reso- 
lute to  defy  law  and  order,  and  take  justice  into  their 
own  hands.  As  they  hurried  past  the  hotel  in  groups  of 
twos,  threes,  and  sometimes  half  a  dozen,  I  noted  them 
man  by  man.  Jim  Long  was  loping  silently  on  by  the 
side  of  an  honest-faced  farmer ;  Games  and  Brings  were 
in  the  midst  of  a  swaggering,  loud  talking  knot  of  loafers; 
the  Harrises,  father  and  son,  followed  in  the  rear  of  the 
crowd  and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street. 

As  the  last  group  passed,  I  went  across  the  road  and 
joined-  the  younger  Harris,  who  was  some  paces  in  advance 
of  his  father,  looking,  as  I  did  so,  up  and  down  the  street. 
Arch  Brookhouse  came  cantering  up  on  a  fine  bay  ;  he  held 
in  his  hand  the  yellow  envelope,  which,  doubtless,  he  had 
just  received  from  Harris. 

"Charlie,"  he  called,  reining  in  his  horse.  "Stop  a 
moment;  yon  must  send  a  message  for  me." 

We  halted,  Harris  looking  somewhat  annoyed. 

Brookhouse  tore  off  half  of  the  yellow  envelope,  and 
sitting  his  horse,  wrote  a  few  words,  resting  his  scrap  of 
paper  on  the  horn  of  his  saddle. 

"Sorry  to  trouble  you,  Charlie,"  he  said,  "but  I  want 
this  to  go  at  once.  Were  you  following  the  mob?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Charlie,  "  weren't  you  ?" 


90  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"No,"  said  Brookhou.se,  shortly,  "  I'm  going  home;  1 
don't  believe  in  mob  law." 

So  saying,  lie  handed  the  paper  to  Harris,  who,  taking  ic 
with  some  ditliculty,  having  to  lean  far  out  because  of  a 
ditch  between  himself  and  Brookhouse,  lost  his  hold  upon 
it,  and  a  light  puff  of  wind  sent  it  directly  into  my  lace. 

I  caught  it  quickly,  and  before  Harris  could  recover  his 
balance,  I  had  scanned  its  contents.  It  ran  thus  : 

No.  —  —  NEW  ORLEANS. 

FUKD  HHOOKIIOUSK  :—  Next  wot-k  L—  will  bo  on  hum!. 

A.  B. 

Harris  took  the  scrap  of  paper  and  turned  back  toward 
the  office.  And  I,  joining  the  elder  Harris,  walked  on 
silently,  watching  young  Brookhouse  as  he  galloped  swiftly 
past  the  crowd  ;  past  the  house  of  Dr.  Bethel,  and  on  up 
the  hill,  toward  the  Brookhouse  homestead.  I  wondered 
inwardly  why  Frederick  Brookhouse,  if  he  were  promi- 
nently connected  with  a  Southern  theater,  should  receive 
his  telegrams  at  a  private  address. 

Dr.  Bethel  occupied  two  pleasant  rooms  of  a  small  house 
owned  by  'Squire  Brookhouse.  He  had  chosen  these,  so 
he  afterwards  informed  me,  because  he  wished  a  quiet  place 
for  study,  and  this  he  could  scarcely  hope  to  find  either  in 
the  village  hotel  or  the  average  private  boarding  houses. 
He  took  his  meals  at  the  hotel,  and  shared  the  office  of 
Dr.  Barnard,  the  eldest  of  tSe  Trafton  physicians,  who  was 
quite  willing  to  retire  from  the  practice  of  his  profession, 


-   MOB  LAW  91 

and  was  liberal  enough  to  welcome. a  young  and  enterpris- 
ing stranger. 

Dr.  Bethel  was  absent;  this  the  mob  soon  ascertained, 
and  some  of  them,  after  paying  a  visit  to  the  stable,  reported 
that  his  hor.se  was  gone. 

"Gone  to  visit  some  country  patient,  I  dare  say,"  said 
Mr.  Harris,  as  we  heard  this  announcement. 

"  Gone  tcr  be  out  of  the  way  till  he  sees  is  he  found 
out,"  yelled  Tom  Briggs.  "Let's  go  through  the  house, 
boys." 

There  was  a  brief  consultation  among  the  leaders  of  the 
raid,  and  then,  to  my  surprise  and  to  Mr.  Harris's  disgust, 
they  burst  in  the  front  door  and  poured  into  the  house, 
Carries  among  the  rest.  Jim  Long  drew  back  as  they 
crowded  in,  and  took  up  his  position  near  the  gate,  and  not 
far  from  the  place  where  we  had  halted. 

Their  search  was  rapid  and  fruitless;  they  were  begin- 
ning to  come  out  and  scatter  about  the  grounds,  when  a 
horse  came  thundering  up  to  the  gate,  and  Dr.  Bethel  flung 
himself  from  the  saddle. 

He  had  seen  the  raiding  party  while  yet  some  rods  away, 
and  he  turned  a  perplexed  and  angry  face  upon  us. 

"I  should  like  to  know  the  meaning  of  this,"  he  said,  in 
quick,  ringing  tones,  at  the  same  moment  throwing  open 
the  little  gate  so  forcibly  as  to  make  those  nearest  it  start 
and  draw  back.  "Who  has  presumed  to  open  my  door?" 

Mr.  Harris  approached  him  and  said,  in  a  low  tone: 


92  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"  Bethel,  restrain  yourself.  Little  Effie  Beale  has  been 
stolen  from  her  grave,  and  these  men  have  turned  out  to 
search  for  the  body." 

"Stolen  from  her  grave!"  the  doctor's  hand  fell  to  his 
side  ami  the  auger  died  out  of  his  eyes,  and  he  seemed  to 
comprehend  the  situation  in  a  moment.  "  And  they  accuse 
me — of  course." 

The  last  words  were  touched  with  a  shade  of  irony.  Then 
he  strode  in  among  the  searchers. 

"My  friends,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  lofty  contempt,  "so 
you  have  accused  me  of  grave  robbing.  Very  well;  go  on 
with  your  search,  and  when  it  is  over,  and  you  find  that 
you  have  brought  a  false  charge  against  me,  go  home,  with 
the  assurance  that  every  man  of  you  shall  be  made  to  an- 
swer for  this  uncalled-for  outlawry." 

The  raiders  who  had  gathered  together  to  listen  to  this 
speech,  fell  back  just  a  little,  in  momentary  consternation. 
He  had  put  the  matter  before  then  in  a  new  light,  and 
each  man  felt  himself  for  the  moment  responsible  for 
his  own  acts.  But  the  voice  of  Tom  Briggs  rallied 
them. 

"He's  bluffin'  us!"  cried  this  worthy.  "He's  try  in'  to 
make  us  drop  the  hunt,  Boys,  we're  gittin'  hot.  Let's  go 
for  the  barn  and  garden." 

And  he  turned  away,  followed  by  the  more  reckless 
ones. 

Without  paying  the  slightest  heed  to  them  or   their 


MOB  LAW.  93 

movements,  Dr.  Bethel  turned  again  to  Mr.  Harris  and 
ariked  when  the  body  was  disinterred. 

While  a  part  of  the  men,  who  had  not  followed  Briggs, 
drew  closer  to  our  group,  and  the  rest  whispered  together, 
a  little  apart,  Mr.  Harris  told  him  all  that  was  krunyn  con- 
cerning the  affair. 

As  he  listened  a  cynical  half  smile  covered  the  doctor's 
face;  he  lifted  his  head  and  seemed  about  to  speak,  then, 
closing  his  lips  firmly,  he  again  bent  his  head  and  listened 
as  at  first. 

"  There's  something  strange  about  this  resurrection,"  said 
he,  when  Mr.  Harris  had  finished.  "  Mr.  Beale's  little  daugh- 
ter was  my  patient.  It  was  a  simple  case  of  diphtheria. 
There  were  no  unusual  symptoms,  nothing  in  the  case  to 
rouse  the  curiosity  of  any  physician.  The  Trafton  doctors 
know  this.  Drs.  Hess  and  Barnard  counselled  with  me. 
Either  the  body  has  been  stolen  by  some  one  outside  of 
Trafton,  or — there  is  another  motive." 

He  spoke  these  last  words  slowly,  as  if  still  deliberating, 
and,  turning,  took  his  horse  by  the  bridle  and  led  him 
stable  ward. 

In  another  moment  there  came  a  shout  from  Briggs' 
party,  their  loud  voices  mingling  in  angry  denunciations. 

With  one  impulse  the  irresolute  ones,  forgetting  self, 
swarmed  in  the  direction  whence  the  voices  came. 

We  saw  Dr.  Bethel,  who  was  just  at  the  rear  corner  of 
the  house,  start,  stop,  then  suddenly  let  fall  the  bridle  and 


94  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

stride  after  the  hurrying  men,  and  at  once,  Mr.  Harris, 
Jim  Long  and  myself  followed. 

Just  outside  the  stable  stood  Briggs,  surrounded  by  his 
crew,  talking  loudly,  and  holding  up  to  the  view  of  all,  a 
bright  new  spade,  and  an  earth-stained  pick  ax.  As  we 
came  nearer  we  could  see  that  the  spade  too  had  clots  of 
moist  black  earth  clinging  to  its  surface. 


"Look,   all  of  ye,"    shouted  Briggs.     "So   much  fer  bis  big 
words;  them's  the  things  he  did  the  job  with." — page  97. 

95 


TWO  FAIR  CHAMPIONS.  97 


CHAPTER  X. 

TWO  F4IR  CHAMPIONS. 

"Look,  all  of  ye,"  shouted  Briggs.  "So  much  fer  his 
big  words;  them's  the  things  he  did  the  job  with." 

The  doctor  stopped  short  at  sight  of  these  implements; 
stopped  and  stood  motionless  so  long  that  his  attitude  might 
well  have  been  mistaken  for  that  of  unmasked  guilt.  But 
his  face  told  another  story;  blank  amazement  was  all  it 
expressed  for  a  moment,  then  a  gleam  of  comprehension ; 
next  a  sneer  of  intensest  scorn,  and  last,  strong  but  sup- 
pressed anger.  He  strode  in  among  the  men  gathered 
about  Tom  Briggs. 

"Where  did  you  get  those  tools,  fellow  ?"  he  demanded, 
sternly. 

"  From  the  place  where  ye  hid  'em,  I  reckon,"  retorted 
Briggs. 

"  Answer  me,  sir,"  thundered  the  doctor.  "  Where  were 
they?" 

"Oh,  ye  needn't  try  any  airs  on  me;  ye  know  well 
enough  where  we  got'  em." 

Dr.  Bethel'sjhand  shot  out  swiftly,  and  straight  from 
the  shoulder,  and  Briggs  went  down  like  a  log. 
'  7     *5 


98  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"Now, 'sir/'  turning  to  the  man  nearest  Briggs,  "where 
were  these  things  hidden?" 

It  chanced  that  this  next  man  was  Carnos,  who  answered 
quickly,  and  with  well  feigned  self-concern. 

"In  the  sthable,  yer  honor,  foreninst  the  windy,  behind 
the  shay." 

I  heard  a  suppressed  laugh  behind  me,  and  looking  over, 
my  shoulder  saw  Charlie  Harris. 

"Things  are  getting  interesting,"  he  said,  coining,  up  be- 
side me.  "Will  there  be  a  scrimmage,  think  you?" 

I  made  him  no  answer,  my  attention  being  fixed  upon 
Beth;  1,  who  was  entering  the  stable  and  dragging  Games 
with  him.  When  he  had  ascertained  the  exact  spot  where 
the  tools  were  found,  he  came  out  and  turned  upon  the  raiders. 

"  Go  on  with  your  farce,"  he  said,  with  a  sarcastic  curl 
of  the  lip.  "I  am  curious  to  see  what  you  will  find  next." 

Then  turning  upon  Briggs,  who  had  scrambled  to  his 
feet,  and  who  caressed  a  very  red  and  swollen  eye,  while  he 
began  a  tirade  of  abuse — 

"Fellow,  hold  your  tongue,  if  you  don't  want  a  worse 
hit.  If  you'll  walk  into  my  house  I'll  give  you  a  plaster 
for  that  eye — after  I  have  cared  for  your  better." 

And  he  turned  toward  his  horse,  \vhistling  a  musical  call. 
The  well-trained  animal  came  straight  to  its  master  and 
wag  led  by  him  into  its  accustomed  place. 

And  now  the  search  became  more  active.  Those  who  at 
first  had  been  held  in  check  by  the  doctor's  manner  were 


TWO  FAIR  CHAMPIOXS.  99 

once  more  spurred  to  action  by  the  sight  of  those  earth- 
stained  tools,  and  the  general  verdict  was  that  "  Bethel  was 
bluffing,  sure."  AVhen  lie  emerged  again  from  the  stable, 
they  were  scattering  about  the  garden,  looking  in  impossi- 
ble places  of  concealment,  under  everything,  over  every- 
thing, into  everything. 

Briggs,  who  seemed  not  at  all  inclined  to  accept  the 
doctor's  proffered  surgical  aid,  still  grasping  in  his  hand 
the  pick,  and  followed  by  Games,  to  whom  he  had  resigned 
the  spade,  went  prowling  about  the  garden. 

Bethel,  who  appeared  to  have  sufficient  mental  employ- 
ment of  some  sort,  passed  our  group  with  a  smile  and  the 
remark : 

"I  can't  ask  you  in, gentlemen,  until  I  have  set  my  house 
in  order.  Those  vandals  have  made  it  a  place  of  confusion." 

He  entered  the  house  through  a  rear  door,  which  had 
been  thrown  open  by  the  invaders,  and  a  moment  later,  as 
I  passed  by  a  side  window,  I  glanced  in  and  saw  him,  not 
engaged  in  "setting  his  house  in  order,"  but  sitting  in  a 
low,  broad-backed  chair,  his  elbows  resting  on  his  knees, 
his  hands  loosely  clasped,  his  head  bent  forward,  his  eyes 
"  fixed  on  vacancy,"  the  whole  attitude  that  of  profound 
meditation. 

The  finding  of  the  tools,  the  manner  of  Bethel,  both 
puzzled  me.  I  went  over  to  Jim  Long,  who  had  seated 
himself  on  the  well  platform,  and  asked : 

"How  is  this  going  to  terminate,  Jim?" 


100  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"Umph!"  responded  Jim,  somewhat  gruffly.  "'Twon't 
be  long  a  comin'  to  a  focus." 

And  he  spoke  truly.  In  a  few  moments  we  heard  a  shout 
from  the  rear  of  the  garden.  Tom  Briggs  and  his  party 
had  found  a  spot  where  the  soil  had  been  newly  turned. 
In  another  moment  a  dozen  hands  were  digging  fiercely. 

Just  then,  and  unnoticed  by  the  exploring  ones,  a  new 
element  of  excitement  came  upon  the  scene. 

Mr.  Beale,  the  father  of  tha  missing  child,  accompanied 
by  two  or  three  friends,  came  in  from  the  street.  They 
paused  a  moment,  in  seeming  irresolution,  then  the  father, 
seeing  the  work  going  on  in  the  garden,  uttered  a  sharp 
exclamation,  and  started  hastily  toward  the  spot,  where,  at 
that  moment,  half  a  dozen  men  were  bending  over  the  small 
excavation  they  had  made,  and  twice  as  many  more  were 
crowding  close  about  them. 

" They  have  found  something,"  said  Harris,  the  elder,  and 
he  hastily  followed  Mr.  Beale,  leaving  his  son  and  myself 
standing  together  near  the  rear  door  of  the  house,  and  Jim 
still  sitting  aloof,  the  only  ones  now,  save  Dr.  Bethel,  who 
were  not  grouping  closer  and  closer  about  the  diggers,  in 
eager  anxiety  to  see  what  had  been  unearthed. 

In  another  moment,  there  came  a  tumult  of  exclama- 
tions, imprecations,  oaths;  and  above  all  the  rest,  a  cry  of 
mingled  anguish  and  rage  from  the  lips  of  the  bereaved 
and  tortured  father. 

The  crowd  about  the  spot  fell  back,  and  the  diggers 


TWO  FAIR  CHAMPIONS.  101 

arose,  one  of  them  holding  something  up  to  the  view  of  the 
rest.  Instinctively,  young  Harris  and  myself  started  to- 
ward them. 

But  Jim  Long  still  sat  stolidly  smoking  beside  the  well. 

As  we  moved  forward,  I  heard  a  sound  from  the  house, 
and  looked  back.  Dr.  Bethel  had  flung  wide  open  the 
shutters  of  a  rear  window,  and  was  looking  out  upon  the 
seene. 

Approaching  the  group,  we  saw  what  had  caused  the 
father's  cry,  and  the  growing  excitement  of  the  searchers. 
They  had  found  a  tiny  pair  of  shoes,  and  a  little  white 
dress;  the  shoes  and  dress  in  which  little  Erne  Beale  had 
been  buried. 

And  now  the  wildest  excitement  prevailed.  Maddened 
with  grief,  rage,  and  sickening  horror,  the  father  called  upon 
them  to  find  the  body,  and  to  aid  him  in  wreaking  vengeance 
upon  the  man  who  had  desecrated  his  darling's  grave. 

It  was  as  fire  to  flax.  Those  who  have  witnessed  the 
workings  of  a  mob,  know  how  swiftly,  mysteriously,  un- 
reasonably, it  kindles  under  certain  influences. 

How  many  men,  with  different,  often  opposing  interests, 
make  the  cause  of  one  their  common  cause,  and  forgetting 
personality,  become  a  unit  for  vengeance,  a  single,  dreadful, 
unreasoning  force ! 

The  air  resounded  with  threats,  imprecations,  exclama- 
tions, oaths. 

Some  of  the  better  class  of  Traftonites  had  followed 


102  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

after  the  first  party,  joining  them  by  threes  and  fours. 
These  made  some  effort  to  obtain  a  hearing  for  themselves 
and  Mr.  Harris,  but  it  was  futile. 

"Hang  the  rascally  doctor!" 

"String  him  up!" 

"Run  him  out  of  town!" 

"Hanging's  too  good!" 

"Let's  tar  and  feather  him!" 

"Brin<r  him  out;  bring  him  out!" 

~  /  O 

"Give  us  a  hold  of  him!" 

"We  ain't  found  the  body  yet,"  cried  one  of  the  most 
earnest  searchers.  "Let's  keep  looking." 

As  some  of  the  party  turned  toward  the  house  I  looked 
back  to  the  open  window. 

Dr.  Bethel  still  stood  in  full  view,  but  Jim  Long  had 
disappeared  from  the  pump  platform. 

The  search  now  became  fierce  and  eager,  and  while  some 
started  to  go  once  again  through  the  house  and  cellar,  a 
number  of  Briggs'  cronies  began  a  furious  onslaught  upon 
a  stack  of  hay,  piled  against  the  stable. 

But  those  who  approached  the  house  met  with  an  un- 
looked-for obstacle  to  their  search, — the  rear  door  was 
closed  and  barred  against  them.  Failing  in  this  quarter 
they  hastened  around  to  the  front. 

Here  the  door  was  open,  just  as  they  had  left  it,  swing- 
ing on  one  broken  hinge;  but  the  doctor's  tall  form  and 
stalwart  shoulders  barred  the  way. 


TWO  FAIR  CHAMPIONS.  103 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  in  low,  resolute  tones,  "you  can 
not  enter  my  house,  at  least  at  present.  You  have  done 
sufficient  damage  to  my  property  already." 

The  men  halted  for  a  moment,  and  then  the  foremost  of 
them  began  to  mount  the  steps. 

"Stand  back,"  said  Bethel.  "  I  shall  protect  my  property. 
I  will  allow  my  house  to  be  inspected  again  by  a  committee, 
if  you  like,  but  I  will  not  admit  a  mob." 

"You'd  better  not  try  to  stop  us,"  said  the  leader  of  the 
party,  "we  are  too  many  for  ye."  And  he  mounted  the 
upper  step. 

"Stand  down,  sir,"  again  said  Bethel.  "Did  I  not  say 
I  should  protect  my  property  ?"  and  he  suddenly  pre- 
sented in  the  face  of  the  astonished  searcher  a  brace  of 
silver-mounted  pistols. 

The  foremost  men  drew  hastily  back,  but  they  rallied 
again,  and  one  of  them  yelled  out: 

"Ye'd  better  not  tackle  us  single-handed;  an'  ye  won't 
get  anyone  to  back  ye  now  /" 

"Jest  allow  me  ter  argy  that  pint  with  ye,"  said  Jim 
Long,  as  he  suddenly  appeared  in  the  doorway  beside 
Bethel.  "  I  reckon  I'm  somebody." 

Jim  held  in  his  hand  a  handsome  rifle,  the  doctor's 
property,  and  he  ran  his  eye  critically  along  the  barrel  as 
he  spoke. 

"Here's  five  of  us,  an'  we  all  say  ye  can't  come  in. 
Three  of  us  can  repeat  the  remark  if  it  'pears  necessary." 


104  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

Then  turning  his  eye  upon  the  last  speaker  of  the  party, 
lie  said,  affably: 

"I  ain't  much  with  the  little  shooters,  Simmons  ;  but  I 
can  jest  make  a  rifle  howl.  Never  saw  me  shoot,  did  ye? 
Now,  jest  stand  still  till  I  shoot  that  grasshopper  off  ye'r 
hat  brim." 

Simmons,  who  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  group,  and  was 
taller  than  those  about  him  by  half  a  head,  began  a  rapid 
retrograde  movement,  and,  as  Jim  slowly  raised  his  rifle  to 
his  shoulder,  the  group  about  the  door-steps  melted  away, 
leaving  him  in  possession  of  the  out-posts. 

"That,"  said  Jim,  with  a  grin,  as  he  lowered  his  rifle, 
"illyustcrates  the  sooperiority  of  mind  over  matter. 
Doctor,  did  ye  know  the  darned  thing  wasn't  loaded?" 

While  Bethel  still  smiled  at  this  bit  of  broad  comedy,  a 
sharp  cry,  and  then  a  sudden  unnatural  stillness,  told  of 
some  new  occurrence,  and  followed  by  Jim  we  went  back 
to  the  rear  window  and  looked  out.  • 

They  were  crowding  close  about  something,  as  yet  half 
hidden  in  the  scattered  hay;  all  silent,  and,  seemingly, 
awe-stricken.  Thus  for  a  moment  only,  then  a  low  mur- 
mur ran  through  the  crowd,  growing  and  swelling  into  a 
yell  of  rage  and  fury. 

Hidden  in  the  doctor's  hay  they  had  found  the  body  of 
Effic  Beale ! 

It  was  still  encoflined,  but  the  little  casket  had  been 
forced  open,  and  it  was  evident,  from  the  position  of  the 


TWO  FAIR  CHAMPIONS.  105 

body,  that  the  buried  clothing  had  been  hurriedly  torn 
from  it. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  describe  the  scene  which  followed 
this  last  discovery.  While  the  father,  and  his  more 
thoughtful  friends,  took  instant  possession  of  the  little  coffin, 
the  wrath  of  the  raiders  grew  hotter  and  higher;  every 
voice  and  every  hand  was  raised  against  Dr.  Bethel. 

Tom  Briggs,  with  his  blackened  eye,  was  fiercely  active, 
and  his  two  or  three  allies  clamored  loudly  for  vengeance 
upon  "the  cursed  resurrectionist." 

"  Let's  give  him  a  lesson,"  yelled  a  burly  fellow,  who, 
having  neither  wife,  child,  nor  relative  in  Trafton  was,  ac- 
cording to  a  peculiar  law  governing  the  average  human 
nature,  the  loudest  to  clamor  for  summary  vengeance. 
"  Let's  set  an  example,  an'  teach  grave  robbers  what  to  look 
for  when  they  come  to  Trafton !" 

"If  we  don't  settle  with  him  nobody  will,"  chimed  in 
another  fellow,  who  doubtless  had  good  reason  for  doubt- 
ing the  ability  of  Trafton  justice  to  deal  with  law- 
breakers. 

Those  who  said  little  were  none  the  less  easier  to  demon- 

~ 

strate  their  ability  to  deal  with  offenders  when  the  oppor- 
tunity afforded  itself.  Over  and  again,  in  various  ways, 
Trafton  had  been  helplessly  victimized,  and  now,  that  at 
last  they  had  traced  an  outrage  to  its  source,  Trafton  seized 
the  opportunity  to  vindicate  herself. 

A  few  of  the  fiercest  favored  extreme  measures,  but  the 


106  OUT  OF  A  LABYKINTH. 

majority  of  the  mob  seemed  united  in  their  choice  of  feathers 
and  tar,  as  a  means  of  vengeance'. 

Seeing  ho\v  the  matter  would  terminate,  I  turned  to 
Harris,  the  younger,  who  had  kept  his  position  near  me. 

"Ask  your  father  to  follow  us,"  1  said,  "and  come  with 
me.  They  are  about  to  attack  the  doctor." 

We  went  quietly  around  and  entered  the  house  from  the 
front.  The  doctor  and  Jim  were  still  at  the  open  window, 
and  in  full  view  of  the  mob. 

Bethel  turned  toward  us  a  countenance  locked  in  im- 
penetrable self-possession. 

"They  mean  business,"  he  said,  nodding  his  head  toward 
the  garden.  "Poor  fools." 

Then  he  took  his  pistols  from  a  chair  by  the  window, 
putting  one  in  each  pocket  of  his  loose  sack  coat. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  addressing  us,  "pray  don't  bring 
upon  yourselves  the  enmity  of  these  people  by  attempt- 
ing to  defend  me.  T  assure  you  I  am  in  no  danger,  and  can 
deal  with  them  single-handed.  Out  of  regard  for  what 
they  have  left  of  my  furniture,  I  will  meet  them  outside." 

And  he  put  one  hand  upon  th-  window  sill  and  leaped 
lightly  out,  followed  instantly  by  young  Harris. 

"Here's  the  inconvenience  of  being  in  charge  of  the 
artillery,"  growled  Jim  Long,  discontentedly.  "  I'll  stay 
in  the  fort  till  the  enemy  opens  fire,"  and  he  drew  the  afore- 
mentioned rifle  closer  to  him,  as  he  squatted  upon  the 
window  ledge. 


TWO  FAIR  CHAMPIONS.  107 

The  clergyman  and  myself,  without  consultation  or  com- 
ment made  our  exit  as  we  came,  by  the  open  front  door, 
and  arrived  upon  the  scene  just  as  Bethel,  with  his  two 
hands  in  his  coat  pockets,  halted  mid-way  between  the  house 
and  rear  garden  to  meet  the  mob  that  swarmed  toward  him, 
yelling,  hooting,  hissing. 

If  the  doctor  had  hoped  to  say  anything  in  his  own  de- 
fense, or  even  to  make  himself  heard,  he  was  speedily  con- 
vinced of  the  futility  of  such  an  undertaking.  His  voice 
was  drowned  by  their  clamor,  and  as  many  eager  hands 
were  outstretched  to  seize  him  in  their  hard,  unfriendly 
grasp,  the  doctor  lost  faith  in  moral  suasion  and  drew  back 
a  step,  while  he  suddenly  presented,  for  their  consideration, 
a  brace  of  five-shooters. 

The  foremost  men  recoiled  for  a  moment,  and  Mr.  Harris 
seized  the  opportunity.  Advancing  until  he  stood  almost 
before  Dr.  Bethel,  he  began  a  conciliatory  speech,  after  the 
most  approved  manner. 

But  it  came  to  an  abrupt  ending,  the  men  rallied  almost 
instantly,  and,  drowning  the  clergyman's  voice  under  a 
chorus  of  denunciations  and  oaths,  they  once  more  pressed 
forward. 

"Stand  down,  parson,"  cried  Jim  Long,  now  leaping 
f:-oni  the  window,  rifle  in  hand,  and  coming  to  the  rescue. 
"Your  medicine  ain't  the  kind  they're  haukerin' 
after." 

"You  fall  back,  Tom  Briggs,"   called  Charlie  Harris, 


108  OUT  OF  A  J.ABYK1.NTH. 

peremptorily,  "we  want  fair  play  here,"  and  he  drew  a 
pistol  from  his  pocket  and  took  his  stand  beside  Bethel. 

At  the  same  moment  I  drew  my  own  weapons  and  fell 
into  line. 

"Gentlemen,"  I  said,  "let's  give  Dr.  Bethel  a  hearing." 

And  now  occurred  what  we  had  hardly  anticipated. 
While  some  of  the  foremost  of  the  raiders  drew  back,  others 
advanced,  and  we  saw  that  these  coiners  to  the  front  were 
armed  like  ourselves. 

While  we  stood  thus,  for  a  moment,  there  was  a  breath- 
less silence  and  then  Jim  Long's  deep  voice  made  itself 
heard. 

"Some  of  you  fellers  are  giving  yourselves  away,"  he 
said,  with  a  sneer.  "Now,  jest  look  a  here;  ye  mean  bluff, 
we  mean  business.  An'  you  chaps  as  has  been  supplied  with 
shooters  by  Tom  Briggs  and  Simmons  and  Saunders  hed 
better  drop  the  things  an'  quit." 

A  moment's  silence,  then  a  babel  of  voices,  a  clamor  and 
rush. 

There  was  the  loud  crack  of  a  pistol,  accompanied  by  a 
fierce  oath, — a  cry  of  "stop,"  uttered  in  a  clear  female 
voice, — then  another  moment  of  breathless  silence. 

Two  women  were  standing  in  our  midst,  directly  between 
the  doctor  and  his  assailants,  and  Games  still  grasped  the 
pistol  hand  of  Tom  Briggs,  while  the  smoke  of  the  averted 
charge  yet  hovered  above  their  heads. 

One  of  the  two  ladies,  who  had  so  suddenly  come  to  tiie 


"Stand  down,  parson,"  cried   Jim  Lon.tr,  rifle  in   hand,  "Your 
medicine  aia't  the  kind  they're  hankerin'  after." — page  107. 

109 


TWO  FAIlt  CHAMPION'S.  J  1  1 

rescue,  was  Miss  A.dele  Minivers.  The  other  a  tall,  lithe, 
beautiful  blonde,  I  had  never  before  seen. 

"Friends,  neighbors,"  said  this  fair  stranger,  in  clear, 
sweet,  but  imperious  tones,  "you  have  made,  a  terrible 
mistake.  Dr.  Bethel  was  with  my  father  from  sunset 
last  night  until  one  hour  ago.  They  were  together  every 
moment,  at  the  bedside  of  Mr.  James  Kelsey,  on  the 
Willoughby  road." 

Evidently  this  fair  young  lady  was  an  authority  not  to 
be  questioned.  The  crowd  fell  back  in  manifest  consterna- 
tion, even  Tom  Briggs'  tongue  was  silent. 

Miss  Manvers  stood  for  a  moment  casting  glances  of 
open  contempt  upon  the  crowd.  Then,  as  the  doctor's  fair 
champion  ceased  speaking  and,  seeing  that  her  words  had 
been  effective,  drew  nearer  to  Mr.  Harris,  flushing  and  pal- 
ing as  if  suddenly  abashed  by  her  own  daring,  the  brilliant 
owner  of  the  treasure-ship  riches  turned  to  Dr.  Bethel. 

"Doctor,  you  are  our  prisoner,"  she  said,  smiling  up  at 
him.  "Dr.  Barnard  is  half  frantic  since  hearing  of  this 
affair,  and  he  commissioned  us  to  bring  you  to  him  at  once." 

Miss  Manvers  had  not  as  yet  noted  my  presence  among 
the  doctor's  handful  of  allies.  Wishing  to  give  my  eyes 
and  ears  full  play,  I  drew  back,  and,  using  Jim  Long  as  a 
screen,  kept  near  the  group  about  the  doctor  ;  but  out  of 
view.  I  had  noted  the  sudden  flash  of  his  eyes,  and  the 
lighting  up  of  his  face,  when  the  fair  unknown  came  among 
us.  And  now  I  saw  him  clasp  her  hand  between  his  two 


112  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

tirm  palms  and  look  down  into  her  face,  for  just  a  moment, 
as  I  could  have  sworn  he  had  never  looked  at  any  other 
woman. 

I  saw  her  eyes  meet  his  for  an  instant,  then  she  seemed 
to  have  withdrawn  into  herself,  and  the  fearless  champion 
was  merged  in  the  modest  but  self-possessed  woman. 

I  saw  the  haughty  Adele  Manvers  moving  about  among 
the  raiders,  bestowing  a  word  here  and  there,  and  I  saw 
Mr.  Harris  now  making  good  use  of  the  opportunity  these 
two  fair  women  had  made.  I  noted  that  Tom  Briggs  and 
his  loud-voiced  associates  were  among  the  first  to  slink  away. 

Dr.  Bethel  was  reluctant  to  quit  the  field,  but  the  advice 
of  Mr.  Harris,  the  earnest  entreaty  of  Miss  Manvers,  and, 
more  than  all  the  rest,  the  one  pleading  look  from  the  eyes 
of  the  lovely  unknown,  prevailed. 

"Long,"  he  said,  turning  to  Jim,  "here  are  my  keys; 
will  you  act  as  my  steward  until — my  place  is  restored  to 
quiet?" 

Jim  nodded  comprehensively. 

"I'll  clear  the  premises,"  he  said,  grimly.  "Don't  ye 
have  any  uneasiness  ;  I'll  camp  right  down  here." 

"Bethel,"  said  Charlie  Harris,  "for  the  sake  of  the 
ladies,  you  had  better  go  at  once ;  those  fellows  in  the  rear 
there  are  trying  to  rally  their  forces." 

"Since  my  going  will  be  a  relief  to  my  friends,  I  con- 
sent to  retreat,"  said  the  besieged  doctor,  smiling  down  at 
the  two  ladies. 


TWO  FAIR  CHAMPIONS.  113 

They  had  driven  thither  in  a  dashing  little  pony  phseton, 
owned  by  Miss  Manvers;  and  as  they  moved  toward  it  the 
heiress  said : 

"Doctor,  you  must  drive  Miss  Barnard  home;  I  intend 
to  walk,  and  enjoy  the  society  of  Mr.  Harris." 

Dr.  Bethel  and  the  blonde  lady  entered  the  little  carriage, 
and,  after  a  few  words  addressed  to  Harris  and  Miss  Man- 
vers,  drove  away. 

The  heiress  looked  about  the  grounds  for  a  moment,  ad- 
dressed a  few  gracious  words  to  Harris,  the  elder,  smiled 
at  Jim  Long,  and  then  moved  away,  escorted  by  the  de- 
lighted younger  Harris. 

"  Wimmen  air — wimmen,"  said  Jim  Long,  sententiously, 
leaning  upon  the  rifle,  which  he  still  retained,  and  looking 
up  the  road  after  the  receding  plumes  of  Miss  Manvers' 
Gainsborough  hat.  "You  can't  never  tell  where  they're 
goin'  ter  appear  next.  It  makes  a  feller  feel  sort  a  ornary, 
though,  ter  have  a  couple  o'  gals  sail  in  an'  do  more  busi- 
ness with  a  few  slick  words  an'  searchin'  looks,  then  he 
could  do  with  a  first-class  rifle  ter  back  him.  Makes  him 
feel  as  tho'  his  inflouence  was  weakening." 

"Jim,"  I  said,  ignoring  his  whimsical  complaint,  "who 
was  the  fair  haired  lady  ?" 

"Doctor  Barnard's  only  darter,  Miss  Louise," 

"I  never  saw  her  before." 

"  'Spose  not;  she's  been  away  nigh  onto  two  months, 
visitin'  her  father's  folks.  Old  Barnard  must  a  had  one 

8 


114  OUT  OP  A  LABYRINTH. 

of  his  bad  turns  this  morning,  so's  he  couldn't  git  out,  or 
he'd  never  a  sent  his  gal  into  such  a  crowd  on  such  an  er- 
rand. Hullo,  what's  that  Mick  o'  your'n  doiii'  ?" 

Glancing  in  the  direction  indicated  by  Jim,  I  saw  that 
Games  was  engaged  in  a  fisticuff  bout  with  Tom  Briggs, 
and  hastened  to  interpose;  not  through  solicitude  for 
Carnes  so  much  as  because  I  wished  to  prevent  a  serious 
rupture  between  the  two. 

"Barney,"  I  said,  severely,  "you  have  been  drinking 
too  much,  I  am  sure.  Stop  this  ruffianism  at  once." 

"Is  it  ruffianism  yer  callin'  it,  ter  defend  yerself  aginst 
the  murtherin'  shnake;  and  ain't  it  all  bekase  I  hild  up 
his  fist  fer  fear  the  blundherin'  divil  ud  shoot  yees  by 
mishtake !  Och,  then,  didn't  I  make  the  illigaut  rhyme 
though  ?" 

"You  have  made  yourself  very  offensive  to  me,  sir,  by 
the  part  you  have  taken  in  this  affair,"  I  retorted,  with 
additional  sternness ;  "  and  so  long  as  you  remain  in  my 
service  you  will  please  to  remember  that  I  desire  you  to 
avoid  the  society  of  loafers  and  brawlers." 

"  Mean  in'  me,  I  suppose?"  snarled  Tom  Briggs. 

"Meaning  you  in  this  instance,"  I  retorted,  turning 
away  from  the  two,  with  all  the  dignity  I  could  muster  for 
the  occasion. 

"  Bedad,  he's  got  his  blood  up,"  muttered  Carnes,  rue- 
fully, as  I  walked  away.  "  Old  Rod  Top,  shake !  Seein' 
as  I'm  to  be  afther  howldin'  myself  above  yees  in  future, 


"Glancing  in  the  direction  indicated  by  Jim,  I  saw  that  Games 
was  engaged  in  a  fisticuff  bout  with  Tom  Briggs,  and  hastened  to 
interpose;" — page  114. 

115 


TWO  FAIR  CHAMPIONS.  117 

I  won't  mind  yer  airs  j  1st  now,  an'  if  iver  I  git  twenty 
dollars  ahead  I'll  discharge  yon  blood  an'  be  me  own  bye." 

Satisfied  that  this  bit  of  by-play  had  had  the  desired 
effect,  and  being  sure  that  Games  would  not  leave  the  prem- 
ises so  long  as  there  remained  anything  or  any  one  likely 
to  prove  interesting,  I  turned  my  steps  townward,  musing 
as  I  went. 

I  had  made,  or  so  I  believed,  three  discoveries. 

Dr.  Carl  Bethel  was  the  victim  of  a  deep  laid  plot,  of 
which  this  affair  of  the  morning  was  but  the  beginning. 

Dr.  Carl  Bethel  was  in  love  with  the  fair  Miss  Barnard. 

And  the  brilliant  owner  of  the  treasure-ship  jewels  was 
in  love  with  Dr.  Carl  Bethel. 

Whether  Bethel  was  aware  of  the  plot,  or  suspected  his 
enemies;  whether  he  was  really  what  he  seemed,  or  only 
playing  a  part  like  myself;  "whether  to  warn  him  and  so 
risk  bringing  myself  under  suspicion,  or  to  let  matters  take 
their  natural  course  and  keep  a  sharp  lookout  meantime; — 
were  questions  which  I  asked  myself  again  and  again,  fail- 
ing to  find  a  satisfactory  answer. 

On  one  thing  I  decided,  however.  Bethel  was  a  self- 
reliant  man.  He  was  keen  and  courageous,  quite  capable 
of  being  more  than  he  seemed.  He  was  not  a  man  to  be 
satisfied  with  half  truth.  I  must  give  him  my  fullest  con- 
fidence or  not  seek  his. 


118  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  CUP  OF  TEA. 

It  was  growing  dusk  before  I  saw  Games  again  that  day. 
I  had  remained  in  my  room  since  dinner,  wishing  to  avoid 
as  much  as  possible  the  gossip  and  natural  inquiry  that 
would  follow  the  denouement  of  the  raid  against  Dr.  Bethel, 
lest  some  suspicious  mind  should  think  me  too  much  in- 
terested, considering  the  part  I  had  taken  in  the  affair. 

Games  came  in  softly,  and  wearing  upon  his  face  the 
peculiar  knowing  grin  that  we  at  the  office  had  named  his 
"Fox  smile."  He  held  in  his  hand  a  folded  slip  of  paper, 
which  he  dropped  upon  my  knee,  and  then  drew  back, 
without  uttering  a  comment,  to  watch  my  perusal  of  the 
same. 

It  was  very  brief,  simply  a  penciled  line  from  Dr. 
Barnard,  asking  me  to  tea  at  seven  o'clock.  It  was  almost 
seven  as  I  read. 

"Where  did  you  get  this?"  I  asked,  rising  with  sudden 
alacrity,  and  beginning  a  hurried  toilet.  "  Read  it  Games, 
if  you  haven't  already ;  I  should  have  had  it  earlier." 

Games  took  up  the  note,  perused  it,  and  tossed  it  on  the 
bed,  then,  seating  himself  astride  a  chair,  he  told  his  story. 


A  CUP  OF  TEA.  119 

watching  my  progressing  toilet  with  seeming  interest  the 
while. 

"  After  my  tender  parting  with  Briggs,  I  sherried  over 
and  made  myself  agreeable  to  Jim  Long,  and  as  I  wras  un- 
common respectful  and  will  in'  to  be  harangued,  he  sort  o' 
took  me  as  handy  boy,  an'  let  me  stay  an  help  him  tidy  up 
Bethel's  place.  He  cleared  out  the  multitude,  put  the  yard 
into  decent  order,  and  then,  while  he  undertook  to  rehang 
the  doctor's  front  door,  I'm  blest  if  he  didn't  set  me  to 
pilin'  up  the  hay  stack.  Don't  wear  that  beast  of  a  choker, 
man,  it  makes  you  look  like  a  laughing  hyena." 

I  discarded  the  condemned  choker,  SM'allowed  the  doubt- 
ful compliment,  and  Carnes  continued,  lapsing  suddenly 
into  broad  Irish: 

"Prisintly  he  comes  out  to  the  shtack,  as  I  was  finishin' 
the  pile,  tellin'  me  as  he  must  have  some  new  hinges  to 
the  doctor's  door,  an'  axin  would  I  shtay  an'  kape  house 
till  he  wint  up  fer  the  iron  works.  I  consinted." 

"Yes!"  eagerly. 

"And  I  made  good  use  of  the  opportunity.  I  wint  over 
that  place  in  a  way  to  break  the  heart  of  a  jenteel  crook,  an' 
I'm  satisfied. 

"Of  what,  Carnes?" 

"That  there's  no  irregularity  about  the  doctor.  If  there 
was  a  track  as  big  as  a  fly's  foot  wouldn't  I  have  hit 
it?  Yes,  sir!  There  ain't  no  trace  of  the  detective-in- 
ambush  about  those  premises,  Tom  Briggs  to  the  contrary 


120  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

notwithstanding.  He's  a  regular  articled  medical  college 
graduate;  there's  plenty  of  correspondence  to  prove  him 
Dr.  Carl  Bethel,  and  nothing  to  prove  him  anything  else." 

"  Quite  likely,"  I  replied,  not  yet  wholly  convinced ; 
"Bethel  is  not  the  man  to  commit  himself;  he'd  be  very 
sure  not  to  leave  a  trace  of  his  'true  inwardness'  about  the 
premises,  if  he  were  on  a  still  hunt.  How  about  the  note, 
Carnes?" 

"Oh,  the  note!  Well,  when  Jim  came  back,  about 
fifteen  minutes  ago,  or  so,  he  gave  me  that,  saying  that  he 
called  at  Dr.  Barnard's  to  ask  for  instructions  from  Bethel, 
and  was  handed  that  note  to  leave  for  you.  Jim  says  that 
he  forgot  to  stop  with  the  note;  but  I'm  inclined  to  think 
that  he  wanted  to  dispose  of  me  and  took  this  way  to  avoid 
hurting  my  feelings." 

"Well,  I  shall  be  late  at  Dr.  Barnard's,  owing  to  Jim's 
notions  of  delicacy,"  I  said,  turning  away  from  the  mirror 
and  hurriedly  brushing  my  hat.  "However,  I  can  ex- 
plain the  tardiness.  By-by,  Carnes ;  we  will  talk  this  day's 
business  over  when  I  have  returned." 

Dr.  Barnard's  pleasant  dwelling  was  scarce  five  minutes' 
walk  from  our  hotel ;  and  I  was  soon  making  my  bow 
in  the  presence  of  the  doctor,  his  wife  and  daughter,  Miss 
Manvers,  and  Dr.  Bethel. 

As  I  look  back  upon  that  evening  I  remember  Louise 
Barnard  as  at  once  the  loveliest,  the  simplest  and  most 
charmingly  cultivated  woman  I  have  ever  met.  Graceful 


A  CUP  OP  TEA.  121 

without  art,  self-possessed  without  ostentation,  beautiful  as 
a  picture,  without  seeming  to  have  sought  by  artifices  of 
the  toilet  to  heighten  the  effect  of  her  statuesque  love- 
liness. 

Adele  Manvers  was  also  beautiful ;  no,  handsome  is  the 
more  appropriate  word  for  her;  but- in  face,  form,  color- 
ing, dress,  and  manner,  a  more  decided  contrast  could  not 
have  been  deliberately  planned. 

Miss  Barnard  was  the  lovely  lady;  Miss  Manvers,  the 
daintily  clad,  fair  woman  of  fashion. 

Miss  Barnard  was  tall,  slender,  dazzlingly  beautiful, 
with  soft  fair  hair  and  the  features  of  a  Greek  goddess. 
Miss  Manvers  was  a  trifle  below  the  medium  height,  a 
piquant  brunette,  plump,  shapely,  a  trifle  haughty,  and  in- 
clined to  self-assertion. 

Miss  Barnard  wore  soft  flowing  draperies,  and  her  hair 
as  nature  intended  it  to  be  worn.  Miss  Manvers  wore 
another  woman's  hair  in  defiance  of  nature,  and  her  dress 
was  fashion's  last  conceit, — a  "symphony"  in  silks  and 
ruffles  and  bewildering  draperies. 

Miss  Barnard  was  dignified  and  somewhat  reticent. 
Miss  Manvers  was  talkative  and  vivacious. 

They  had  learned  from  Jim  Long  all  that  he  could  tell 
them  concerning  the  part  I  had  taken  in  the  affair  of  the 
morning.  The  elder  physician  desired  to  express  his  ap- 
probation, the  younger  his  gratitude.  They  had  sent  for 

me  that  I  might  hear  what  they  had  to  say  on  the  subject 

*6 


122  OUT  OP  A  LABYRINTH. 

of  the  grave  robbery,  and  to  ask  my  opinion  and  advice  as 
to  future  movements. 

All  this  was  communicated  to  me  by  the  voluble  old 
doctor,  who  was  sitting  in  an  invalid's  chair,  being  as  yet 
but  half  recovered  from  his  neuralgic  attack  of  the  morn- 
ing. We  had  met  on  several  occasions,  but  I  had  no  pre- 
vious knowledge  of  his  family. 

"There  will  be  no  further  trouble  about  this  matter," 
said  Dr.  Barnard,  as  we  sat  in  the  cool,  cosy  parlor  after 
our  late  tea.  "Our  people  have  known  me  too  long  to 
doubt  my  word,  and  my  simple  statement  of  my  absolute 
knowledge*  concerning  all  of  Bethel's  movements  will  put 
out  the  last  spark  of  suspicion,  so  far  as  he  is  concerned — 
but,"  bringing  the  palm  of  his  large  hand  down  upon  the 
arm  of  his  chair  with  slow  emphasis,  "it  won't  settle  the 
question  next  in  order.  UVio  are  the  guilty  ones  ?" 

"That  I  shall  make  it  my  business  to  find  out,"  said 
Dr.  Bethel,  seriously,  "  I  confess  that  at  first  I  was  un- 
reasonably angry,  at  the  thought  of  the  suspicion  cast  upon 
me.  On  second  thought  it  was  but  natural.  I  am  as  yet 
a  stranger  among  you,  and  Trafton  evidently  believes  it 
wise  to  '  consider  every  man  a  rogue  until  he  is  proved 
honest.'  " 

"From  what  I  have  heard  since  coming  here,"  I  ven- 
tured, "  I  shoald  say  Trafton  has  some  reason  for  adopting 
this  motto." 

"  So  she  has ;  so   she  has,"   broke  in   the  old  doctor. 


A  CUP  OF  TEA.  123 

11  And  some  one  had  a  reason  for  attempting  to  throw  sus- 
picion upon  Bethel." 

"Evidently/'  said  Bethel.  "I  am  puzzled  to  guess 
what  that  reason  can  be,  and  I  dispose  of  the  theory  that 
would  naturally  come  up  first,  namely,  that  it  is  a  plot  to 
destroy  the  public  confidence  in  me,  set  on  foot  by  rival 
doctors,  by  saying,  at  the  outset,  that  I  don't  believe  there 
is  a  medical  man  in  or  about  Trafton  capable  of  such 
a  deed.  I  have  all  confidence  in  my  professional 
brethren." 

"  Why,"  interposed  Miss  Manvers,  "  the  sentiment  does 
you  honor,  Dr.  Bethel,  but — I  should  think  the  other 
doctors  your  most  natural  enemies.  Who  else  could," — 
she  broke  off  abruptly  with  an  appealing  glance  at  Louise 
Barnard. 

"  I  think  Dr.  Bethel  is  right,"  said  Miss  Barnard,  in  her 
low,  clear  contralto.  "  I  cannot  think  either  of  our  doctors 
capable  of  a  deed  so  shameful."  Then  turning  to  address 
me,  she  added,  "  You,  as  a  stranger  among  us,  may  see  the 
matter  in  a  more  reasonable  light.  How  does  it  look  to 
you?" 

"Taking  the  doctor's  innocence  as  a  foregone  conclusion," 
I  replied,  "  it  looks  as  though  he  had  an  enemy  in  Trafton," 
here  I  turned  my  eyes  full  upon  the  face  of  Bethel,  "who 
wished  to  drive  him  out  of  the  community  by  making  him 
unpopular  in  it." 

Bethel's  face  wore  the   same   expression    of    mystified 


124  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

candor,  his  eyes  met  mine  full  and  frankly,  as  he 
replied : 

"  Taking  tlmt  as  a  foregone  conclusion,  we  arrive  at  the 
point  of  starting,  Who  are  the  guilty  ones?  Who  are  my 
enemies?  I  have  been  uniformly  successful  in  my  practice; 
I  have  had  no  differences,  disagreement,  or  disputes  with 
any  man  in  Trafton.  Up  to  to-day  I  could  have  sworn  I 
had  not  an  enemy  in  the  town." 

"And  so  could  I,"  said  Dr.  Barnard.  "It's a  case  for  a 
wiser  head  than  mine." 

"It's  a  case  for  the  detectives,"  said  Dr.  Bethel,  firmly. 
"If  this  unknown  foe  thinks  to  drive  me  from  Trafton,  he 
must  try  other  measures.  I  intend  to  remain,  and  to  solve 
this  mystery." 

A  moment's  silence  followed  this  decided  announcement. 

The  old  doctor  nodded  his  approval,  his  daughter  looked 
hers. 

Miss  Manvers  sat  with  eyes  fixed  upon  a  spot  in  the 
carpet,  biting  nervously  at  her  full  red  under  lip,  and  tap- 
ping the  floor  with  the  toe  of  her  dainty  boot. 

I  had  no  desire  to  take  a  prominent  part  in  the  discus- 
sion which  followed,  and  became  as  much  as  I  could  a  mere 
observer,  but,  as  after  events  proved,  I  made  very  good  use 
of  my  eyes  that  night. 

Having  exhausted  the  subject  of  the  grave  robbery  with- 
out arriving  at  any  new  conclusions,  the  social  old  doctor 
proposed  a  game  of  whist,  cards  being,  his  chief  source  of 


A  CUP  OF  TEA.  125 

evening  pastime.  The  game  was  made  up,  Miss  Manvers 
taking  a  seat  opposite  Dr.  Barnard,  and  Dr.  Bethel  playing 
with  Mrs.  Barnard. 

After  watching  their  game  for  a  time,  Miss  Barnard  and 
myself  retired  to  the  piano.  She  sang  several  songs  in  a 
tender  contralto,  to  a  soft,  well-rendered  accompaniment, 
and  as  I  essayed  my  thanks  and  ventured  to  praise  her 
singing,  she  lifted  her  clear  eyes  to  mine,  saying,  in  an 
undertone : 

"Don't  think  me  odd,  or  too  curious — but — will  you 
answer  a  question — frankly?" 

I  promised,  recklessly;  and  she  ran  her  pretty  fingers 
over  the  keys,  drowning  our  voices,  for  other  ears,  under 
the  soft  ripple  of  the  notes,  while  she  questioned  and  I  re- 
plied. 

"  As  a  stranger,  and  an  unprejudiced  person,"  she  began, 
"how  does  this  shameful  charge  against  Dr.  Bethel  appear 
to  you?  Judging  him  as  men  judge  men,  do  you  think  he 
could  be  guilty  of  such  a  deed  ?" 

"  Judging  him  by  my  limited  knowledge  of  human  na- 
ture," I  replied,  "I  should  say  that  Dr.  Bethel  is  incapa- 
ble of  baseness  in  any  form.  In  this  case,  he  is  certainly 
innocent." 

She  looked  thoughtfully  down  at  the  white,  gliding 
fingers,  and  said, 

"We  have  seen  so  much  of  Dr.  Bethel  since  he  came  to 
Trafton,  that  he  seems  quite  like  an  old  friend,  and  be- 


126  OUT  OF  A  LABYKESTTH. 

cause  of  his  being  associated  with  father,  it  makes  his 
trouble  almost  a  personal  matter.  I  do  hope  it  will  end 
without  further  complications." 

She  looked  up  in  my  face  as  if  hoping  that  my  judg- 
ment accorded  with  her  wish,  but  I  made  no  reply, 
finding  silence  easier  and  pleasanter  than  equivocation 
when  dealing  witli  a  nature  so  frank  and  fearlessly 
truthful. 

The  game  of  whist  being  at  an  end,  Miss  Manvers  arose 
almost  immediately  and  declared  it  time  to  go.  She  had 
sent  her  phaeton  home,  her  house  being  less  than  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  from  Dr.  Barnard's,  and  according  to  the  custom 
of  informal  Traftou,  I  promptly  offered  myself  as  escort, 
and  was  promptly  and  smilingly  accepted. 

"What  a  day  this  has  been,"  said  Miss  Manvers,  as  the 
doctor's  iron  gate  closed  behind  us.  "  Such  a  terrible 
charge  to  bring  against  Dr.  Bethel.  Do  you  really  think," 
and,  spite  her  evident  intention  to  make  the  question  sound 
common-place,  I  could  detect  the  genuine  anxiety  in  it, 
"Do  you  really  think  that  it  will — injure  his  practice  to 
the  extent  of — driving  him  from  Trafton?" 

"You  heard  what  he  said,  Miss  Manvers." 

"  Oh,  yes — but  if  I  am  rightly  informed,  Dr.  Bethel  is, 
in  a  measure  at  least,  dependent  on  his  practice.  Is  not 
this  so  ?" 

"You  are  better  advised  than  I,  Miss  Manvers;  I  know 
so  little  of  Dr.  Bethel." 


"Candidly,  now,"  she  said,  "  as  if  I  were  not  Miss  Manvers,  but 
a  man  to  be  trusted.  Do  you  think  it  impossible  that  Dr.  Bethel 
lias  done  this  thing?— page  129. 

127 


A  CUP  OF  TEA.  129 

"And   yet   you  were   his  warmest   champion   to-day." 
"I  assure  you  I  felt  quite  cool/'  I  laughed.     "I  should 
have  done  as  much  for  the  merest  stranger,  under  the  same 
circumstances." 

"Then  you  are  not  prejudiced  in  his  favor?" 
"  I  am  not  prejudiced  at  all.     I  like  Bethel." 
"  And  so  do  I,"  replied  the  heiress,  heartily,  "  and  I  like 
the  spirit  he  shows  in  this  matter.     Is  not  this — a — exhum- 
ing of  a  subject,  a  frequent  occurrence?" 
"Undoubtedly." 

"I  mean — is  it  not  often  done  by  medical  men?" 
"  By  them,  or  persons  employed  by  them.     I  suppose  so." 
She  drew  a  little  nearer,  lifting  an  earnest  face  to  meet 
my  gaze. 

"Candidly,  now,"  she  said,  "as  if  I  were  not  Miss 
Manvers,  but  a  man  to  be  trusted.  DJ  you  think  it  im- 
possible that  Dr.  Bethel  has  done  this  thing.  Viewed 
from  a  scientific  and  practical  standpoint,  does  such  a  deed 
appear  to  you  to  be  the  horrible  thing  some  seem  to 
think  it?" 

What  spirit  prompted  my  answer?  I  never  knew  just 
what  impelled  me,  but  T  looked  down  into  the  pretty,  up- 
turned face,  looked  straight  into  the  dark,  liquid  eyes,  and 
answered  : 

"  Candidly,  Miss  Manvers — as  you  are  certainly  as  much 
to  be  trusted  as  if  you  were  a  man — when  I  went  to  Bethel's 

defense,  I  went  supposing  that,  for  the  benefit  of  science 

9 


130  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

and  the  possible  good  of  his  fellow-beings,  \\ehad  exhumed 
the  body." 

She  drew  a  short,  quick  breath. 

"  And  you  have  changed  your  opinion  ?"  she  half  as- 
serted, half  inquired. 

I  laid  the  fingers  of  my  gloved  left  hand  lightly  upon 
hers,  as  it  rested  on  my  arm,  and  bent  lower  toward  the 
glowing  brunette  face  as  I  answered  : 

"  I  have  not  said  so." 

She  dropped  her  eyes  and  mused  for  a  moment,  then — 

"Do  you  think  he  will  actually  call  in  a  detective — to — 
to  make  his  innocence  seem  more  probable  ?" 

"  I  hope  he  will  not,"  I  replied,  sincerely  this  time,  but 
with  a  hidden  meaning. 

"I  don't  think  that  Mr.  Beale  will  desire  further  inves- 
tigation. The  matter  will  die  out,  undoubtedly.  Mr. 
.Barnard  is  a  man  of  powerful  influence  in  the  community, 
and  'Squire  Brookhouse  will  use  his  influence  in  behalf  of 
Dr.  Bethel,  I  am  sure."  Then,  looking  up  again,  quickly : 
"Do  you  not  admire  Miss  Barnard?" 

"  Miss  Barnard  is  '  a  thing  of  beauty/  "  I  rejoined,  sen- 
tentiously  ;  then,  with  a  downward  glance  that  pointed  my 
sentence,  "I  admire  all  lovely  women." 

She  laughed  lightly,  but  said  no  more  of  Miss  Barnard, 
or  Dr.  Bethel,  and  we  parted  with  some  careless  badinage, 
supplemented  by  her  cordial  hope  that  T  would  prolong  my 
stay  in  Trafton,  and  that  she  should  see  me  often  at  The  Hill, 


A  CUP  OF  TEA.  131 

Going  slowly  homeward,  through  the  August  darkness, 
I  mentally  voted  the  treasure-ship  heiress  a  clever,  agree- 
able, and  charming  young  lady,  and  spent  some  time  in 
trying  to  decide  whether  her  delightful  cordiality  was  a 
token  that  I  had  pleased,  or  only  amused  her.  Such  is  the 
vanity  of  man! 

I  found  Carnes  wide  awake,  smoking  and  waiting. 

"  Have  ye  done  wid  yer  gallivantin'  ?"  queried  he,  the 
instant  I  made  my  appearance.  "  Now,  thin,  be  shquare ; 
which  is  the  purtyest  gurl  ?" 

"  How  do  you  know  there  were  two,  sir  ?" 

"  Inshtinct,"  he  retorted,  shamelessly.  "  I  knew  by  the 
peculiar  feelin'  av  the  cords  av  me  arums.  I  say,  what  a 
thunderin'  lot  o'  snarly  bushes  old  Barnyard  kapes  about 
his  windys!" 

"  What !  you  were  up  there  ?"  I  cried,  in  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Worrunt  I,"  he  retorted,  complacently.  "  An'  1 
wasn't  the  only  one  !" 

"  Carnes !" 

"  Och,  take  off  yer  mittens  an'  sit  down,"  he  said,  grin- 
ning offensively  at  my  mighty  efforts  to  draw  off  a  pair  of 
tight  and  moist  kid  gloves.  "  AVarn't  I  up  there,  an'  I 
could  ave  told  ye  all  about  the  purty  gals  mysilf,  an' -what 
sort  av  blarney  ye  gave  till  em  both,  if  it  had  not  been  fer 
the  imirtherin'  baste  of  a  shnake  as  got  inter  the  scrubbery 
ahead  av  me." 


132  OUT  OF  A  LABYKLNTH. 

I  threw  aside  the  damp  gloves,  and  seated  myself  directly 
iii  front  of  him. 

"  Now,  talk  business,"  I  said,  impatiently.  "  It's  getting 
late,  and  there's  a  good  deal  to  be  said." 

Carnes  reached  out  for  the  pipe  which  he  had  laid  aside 
at  my  entrance,  lighted  it  with  due  deliberation,  and  then 
said,  with  no  trace  of  his  former  absurdity  : 

"  I  don't  know  what  sent  me  strolling  and  smoking  up 
toward  Dr.  Barnard's  place,  but  I  did  go.  My  pipe  went 
out,  and  I  stopped  to  light  it,  stepping  off  the  sidewalk  just 
where  the  late  lilacs  hang  over  the  fence  at  the  foot  of  the 
garden.  While  I  stood  there,  entirely  hidden  by  the  dark- 
ness and  the  shade,  a  man  came  walking  stealthily  down 
the  middle  of  the  road.  His  very  gait  betrayed  the  sneak, 
and  I  followed  him,  forgetting  my  pipe  and  keeping  to  the 
soft  grass.  He  seemed  to  know  just  where  to  go  for, 
although  he  moved  cautiously,  there  was  no  hesitation. 
Well,  he  passed  the  gate,  climbed  the  fence,  sneaked  up  to 
the  front  of  the  house,  skulking  between  the  trees  and  rose 
bushes  directly  underneath  the  parlor  window.  I  took  the 
bearings  as  well  as  I  could  from  a  distance,  and  I  made  up 
my  mind  that  the  fellow,  if  he  heard  anything,  could  hardly 
catch  the  thread  of  the  discourse,  and  I  reckon  I  was  right 
in  my  conclusions  for,  after  a  good  deal  of  prospecting 
around,  he  sneaked  away  as  he  came,  and  I  followed  him 
back  to  Porter's  store." 

"And  you  knew  him?"  I  questioned,  hastily. 


"Well  he  passed  the  gale,  climbed  the  fence,  sneaked  up  to  the 
front  of  the  house,  skulking  between  the  trees  and  rose  bushes  di- 
rectly underneath  the  parlor  window." — page  132. 

133 


A  CUP  OF  TEA.  135 

"  I  used  to  know  him,"  said  Carnes,  with  a  comical  wink, 
"  but  recently  I've  cut  his  acquaintance." 

For  a  moment  we  stared  at  each  other  silently,  then  I 
asked,  abruptly : 

"  Old  man,  do  you  think  it  worth  our  while  to  go  into 
this  resurrection  business?" 

"What  for?" 

"  To  satisfy  ourselves  as  regards  Bethel's  part  in  it." 

"  You  needn't  go  into  it  on  my  account,"  replied  Games, 
crossing  his  legs  and  clasping  his  two  hands  behind  his 
head;  "  I'm  satisfied." 

"As  how?" 

"He  never  did  it." 

"Ah  !  how  do  you  reason  the  case?" 

"First,  he  isn't  a  fool;  second,  if  he  had  taken  the  body 
he  would  have  made  use  of  it  that  night ;  it  was  fast  de- 
composing, and  before  to-night  would  be  past  pleasant  hand- 
ling. Then  he,  being  called  away,  if  he  had  instructed 
others  to  disinter  the  body,  would  never  have  instructed 
them  to  hide  it  on  his  own  premises,  much  less  to  disrobe 
it  for  no  purpose  whatever.  Then,  last  and  most  conclusive, 
there's  the  pick  and  spade." 

"And  what  of  them?" 

"This  of  them,"  unclasping  his  hands,  setting  his  two 
feet  squarely  on  the  floor,  and  bringing  his  palms  down 
upon  his  knees.  "You  know  old  Harding,  the  hardware 
dealer?" 


136  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

I  noclded.  Old  Harding  was  the  elder  brother  of  the 
Trafton  farmer  who  had  excited  my  eagerness  to  see  Trafton 
by  discussing  its  peculiarities  on  the  railway  train. 

"Well,"  leaning  toward  me  and  dropping  out  his  words 
in  stiff  staccato.  "After  the  crowd  had  left  Jim  Long 
and  myself  in  possession  of  the  doctor's  premises,  old 
Harding  came  back.  I  saw  that  he  wanted  to  talk  with 
Jim,  and  I  went  out  into  the  yard.  Presently  the  two 
went  into  the  barn,  and  I  skulked  around  till  I  got  directly 
behind  the  window  where  those  tools  were  found.  And 
here's  what  I  heard,  stripped  of  old  I  lard  ing's  profanity,and 
Jim's  cranky  comments.  Last  year  Hard  ing's  store  was 
visited  by  burglars,  and  those  identical  tools  were  taken 
out  of  it  along  with  many  other  things.  You  observed 
that  they  were  quite  new.  Harding  said  he  could  swear 
to  the  tools.  Now,  if  others  had  exhumed  the  body  for  the 
doctor,  they  would  not  have  left  their  tools  in  his  stable  and 
in  so  conspicuous  a  place.  If  the  doctor  exhumed  it,  how 
did  he  obtain  those  tools  ?  They  were  stolen  before  he  came 
to  Trafton." 

"  Then  here  is  another  thing,"  I  began,  as  Carnes  paused. 
"A  man  of  Bethel's  sense  would  not  take  such  a  step  with- 
out a  sufficient  reason.  Now,  Dr.  Barnard,  who  certainly 
is  authority  in  the  matter,  says  positively  that  there  were 
no  peculiar  symptoms  about  the  child's  sickness;  that  it 
was  a  very  ordinary  case ;  therefore,  Dr.  Bethel,  who  can 
buy  all  his  skeletons  without  incurring  disagreeable  labor 


A  CUP  OP  TEA.  137 

and  risk,  could  have  had  no  motive  for  taking  the  body." 
"  Then  you  think— 

"  I  think  this,"  I  interrupted,  being  now  warm  with  my 
subject.  "  Dr.  Bethel,  who  is  certainly  not  a  detective,  is 
suspected  of  being  one,  or  feared  as  one.  And  this  is  the 
way  his  enemies  open  the  war  upon  him.  I  think  if  we 
can  find  out  who  robbed  that  little  girl's  grave  and 
secreted  the  body  so  as  to  throw  suspicion  upon  Bethel,  we 
shall  be  in  a  fair  way  to  find  out  what  we  came  here  to 
learn,  viz.,  what,  and  where,  and  who,  are  the  daring,  long 
existing  successful  robbers  that  infest  Trafton.  This  is 
their  first  failure,  and  why  ?" 

"  It's  easy  to  guess  why,"  said  Carnes,  gravely.  "  The 
old  head  was  out  of  this  business ;  for  some  reason  it  has 
been  entrusted  to  underlings,  and  bunglers." 

"  But  won't  old  Harding  give  these  rascals  warning  by 
claiming  his  stolen  property  ?"  I  asked,  dubiously. 

"Not  he,"  replied  Carnes.  "Hard ing's  too  cute  and 
too  stingy  for  that.  He  reasons  that  the  thieves,  having 
begun  to  display  their  booty,  may  grow  more  reckless.  He 
is  one  of  the  few  who  think  that  the  body  was  not  placed 
in  the  hay  by  the  doctor's  hirelings  ;  he  intends  to  keep 
silent  for  the  present  and  look  sharp  for  any  more  of  his 
stolen  merchandize." 

"  Then,  Carnes,  we  have  no  bars  to  our  present  progress. 
To-morrow  we  get  down  to  actual  business." 

Again  we  sat  late  into  the  night  discussing  and  re-ar- 


138  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

ranging  our  plans,  only  separating  when  we  had  mapped 
out  a  course  which  we,  in  our  egotistical  blindness,  felt  as- 
sured was  the  true  route  toward  success  ;  and  seeking  our 
slumbers  as  blissfully  unconscious  of  what  really  was  to 
transpire  as  the  veriest  dullard  in  all  Trafton. 


A  BIG  HAUL.  139 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  BIG  HAUL. 

When  I  awoke  next  morning,  I  was  surprised  to  find 
my  erratic  body-servant  not  in  attendance. 

Games,  for  convenience,  and  because  of  lack  of  modern 
hotel  accommodations,  occupied  a  cot  in  my  room,  which  was 
the  largest  in  the  house,  and  sufficiently  airy  to  serve  for 
two.  Usually,  he  was  anything  but  a  model  serving  man 
in  the  matter  of  rising  and  attending  to  duty,  for,  invari- 
ably, I  was  out  of  bed  an  hour  before  him,  and  had  made 
my  toilet  to  the  music  of  his  nasal  organ,  long  before  he 
broke  his  morning  nap. 

This  morning,  however,  Carnes  was  not  snoring  peace- 
fully on  his  cot  underneath  the  open  north  window,  and 
I  arose  and  made  a  hasty  toilet,  feeling  sure  that  something 
unusual  had  called  him  from  his  bed  thus  early. 

Wondering  much,  I  descended  to  the  office,  where  an 
animated  buzz  warned  me  that  something  new  and  start- 
ling was  under  discussion. 

Usually  at  that  hour  this  sanctum  was  untenanted,  save 
for  the  youth  who  served  as  a  combination  of  porter  and 
clerk,  and  perhaps  a  stray  boarder  or  two,  but  this  morn- 
ing a  motley  crowd  filled  the  room.  Not  a  noisy,  bluster- 


140  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

ing  crowd,  but  a  gathering  of  startled,  perplexed,  angry 
looking  men,  each  seeming  hopeful  of  hearing  something, 
rather  than  desirous  of  saying  much. 

Jim  Long,  the  idle,  every-where-present  Jim,  stood  near 
the  outer  door,  looking  as  stolid  and  imperturbable  as  usual, 
and  smoking,  as  a  matter  of  course. 

I  made  my  way  to  him  at  once. 

"  What  is  it,  Long,"  I  asked,  in  a  low  tone;  "  something 
new,  or — 

"Nothin'  new,  by  any  means,"  interrupted  Jim,  sub- 
limely indifferent  to  the  misfortune  of  his  neighbors. 
"  Xothin'  new  at  all,  Cap'n;  the  Trafton  Bandits  have  been 
at  it  again,  that's  all." 

"Trafton  Bandits!  you  mean — " 

"Thieves!  Robbers!  KuKlux!  They've  made  another 
big  haul." 

"Last  night?" 

"Last  night,  Cap'n." 

"Of  what  sort?" 

Jim  chuckled  wickedly. 

"  The  right  sort  to  git  money  out  of.  Hopper's  two- 
forty's,  that  was  in  trainin'  for  the  races.  Meacham's 
matched  sorrels.  'Squire  Brookhouse's  bay  Morgans." 

"What!  six  blooded  horses  at  one  haul !" 

"Eggszactly." 

Jim's  coolness  was  aggravating ;  I  turned  away  from 
him,  and  mingled  with  the  group  about  the  clerk's  desk. 


"  Nothin'  new  at  all,  Cap'n;  the  Trafton  Bandits  have  been  at  it 
again  that's  all." — page  140. 

141 


A  BIG  HAUL,.  143 

"  Meacham  '11  suicide ;  he  refused  a  fancy  price  for  them 
sorrels  not  two  weeks  ago." 

"Wonder  what  old  Brookhouse  will  do  about  it?" 

"There'll  be  some  tall  rewards  offered." 

"  Much  good  that'll  do.  We  don't  get  back  stolen  horses 
so  easy  in  this  county." 

"  It'll  break  Hopper  up ;  lie  had  bet  his  pile  on  the  two- 
forty's,  and  bid  fair  to  win." 

"One  of  'em  was  goin'  to  trot  against  Arch  Brookhouse's 
mare,  Polly,  an'  they  had  big  bets  up.  Shouldn't  wonder 
if  Arch  was  glad  to  be  let  out  so  easy.  Polly  never  could 
outgo  that  gray  four-year-old." 

"Think  not?" 

"Brookhouse  lias  telegraphed  to  his  lawyers  already,  to 
send  on  a  couple  of  detectives." 

"Bully  for  Brookhouse." 

"  Don't  yell  till  yer  out  of  the  woods.  Detectives  ain't 
so  much  more' n  common  folks.  I  don't  go  much  on  'em 
myself.  What  we  want  is  vigilants." 

"  Pooh !  neither  detectives  nor  vigilants  can't  cure 
Trafton." 

These  and  like  remarks  greeted  my  ears  in  quick  suc- 
cession, and  furnished  me  mental  occupation.  I  lingered 
for  half  an  hour  among  the  eager,  excited  gossippers,  and 
then  betook  myself  to  the  dining-room  and  partook  of  my 
morning  meal  in  solitude.  With  my  food  for  the  body,  I 
had  also  food  for  thought. 


144  OUT  OF  A  LABYEINTH. 

Here,  indeed,  was  work  for  the  detective.  I  longed  for 
the  instant  presence  of  Games,  that  we  might  discuss  the 
situation,  and  I  felt  no  little  annoyance  at  the  thought  of 
the  two  detectives  who  might  come  in  upon  us  at  the  bid- 
ding of  'Squire  Brookhouse. 

Games  was  in  the  office  when  I  again  entered  it,  and 
giving  him  a  sign  to  follow  me,  I  went  up  to  my  room. 
It  was  situated  in  awing  of  the  building  most  remote  from 
the  office,  and  the  hum  of  many  voices  did  not  penetrate 
so  far. 

The  stillness  seemed  more  marked  by  contrast  with  the 
din  I  had  just  left,  as  I  sat  waiting. 

Presently  Games  came  in,  alert,  quick  of  movement,  arid 
having  merged  the  talkative  Irishman  in  the  active,  cautious 
detective. 

"This  looks  like  business;"  he  began,  dragging  a  chair 
forward,  and  seating  himself  close  to  me.  "I  chanced  to 
wake  up  a  little  after  sunrise,  and  heard  some  men  talking 
outside,  near  my  window.  They  were  going  through  the 
iane,  and  I  only  caught  the  words:  "Yes,  sir;  stolen  last 
night ;  six  of  them."  Somehow  the  tone,  quite  as  much  as 
the  words,  convinced  me  that  something  was  wrong.  I 
got  up  and  hurried  out,  thinking  it  hardly  worth  while  to 
disturb  you  until  I  had  learned  more  of  the  fellow's  mean- 
ing. Well,  sir,  it's  a  fact;  six  valuable  pieces  of  horseflesh 
have  been  taken  from  under  our  very  noses." 

"  Have  you  got  any  particulars  ?" 


A  BIG  HAUL.  145 

"Well,  yes,  as  much  as  is  known,  I  think.  Hopper,  as 
you  remember,  lives  on  the  hill  just  at  the  edge  of  the  town. 
His  man  sleeps  in  the  little  office  adjoining  the  stable.  It 
seems  the  fellow,  having  no  valuables  to  lose,  let  the  win- 
dow swing  open  and  slept  near  it.  He  was  chloroformed, 
and  is  under  the  doctor's  care  this  morning.  Meacham's 
stable  is  very  near  the  house,  but  no  one  was  disturbed  by 
the  robbers ;  they  threw  his  dog  a  huge  piece  of  meat  that 
kept  his  jaws  occupied.  I  heard  Arch  Brookhouse  talking 
with  a  lot  of  men ;  he  says  the  Morgans  were  in  a  loose  box 
near  the  rear  door  of  the  stable,  and  that  two  men  were 
sleeping  in  the  room  above  the  front  wing.  He  says  they 
have  telegraphed  to  the  city  for  detectives." 

"Yes,  I'm  sorry  for  that,  but  it's  to  be  expected. 

"  What  shall  we  do  about  it  ?" 

"As  we  are  working  for  our  own  satisfaction  and  have 
little  at  stake,  I  am  in  favor  of  keeping  quiet  until  we  see 
who  they  bring  down.  If  it's  some  of  our  own  fellows,  or 
any  one  that  we  know  to  be  skillful,  we  can  then  turn  in 
and  help  them,  or  retire  from  the  field  without  making 
ourselves  known,  as  we  think  best.  If  the  fellows  are 
strangers — " 

"  Then  we  will  try  the  merits  of  the  case  with  them," 
broke  in  Carnes.  "  I  tell  you,  old  man,  I  hate  to  quit  the 
field  now." 

"  So  do  I,"  I  acknowledged.     "  We  must  manage  to 

know  when  these  new  experts  arrive,  and  until  we  have 

10     *7 


146  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

found  them  out,  can  do  little  but  keep  our  eyes  and  ears 
open.     It  won't  do  to   betray  too  much  interest  just  yet." 

Carnes  wheeled  about  in  his  chair  and  turned  his  eyes 
toward  the  street. 

"  I  wish  this  thing  had  not  happened  just  yet,"  he  said, 
moodily.  "  Last  night  our  plans  were  laid  so  smoothly. 
I  don't  see  how  we  can  even  follow  up  this  grave-robbing 
business,  until  these  confounded  detectives  have  shown 
their  hand." 

"  Carnes,"  I  replied,  solemnly,  "  do  be  a  philosopher. 
If  ever  two  conceited  detectives  got  themselves  into  a 
charming  muddle,  we're  those  two,  at  present.  If  we  don't 
come  out  of  this  escapade  covered  with  confusion,  we  shall 
have  cause  to  be  thankful. 

My  homily  had  its  intended  effect.  Carnes  wheeled 
upon  me  with  scorn  upon  his  countenance. 

"The  mischief  fly  away  wid  yer  croakin',"  he  cried. 
"  An'  it's  lyin'  ye  know  ye  arc.  Is  it  covered  wid  confu- 
sion ye'd  be  afther  havin'  us,  bad  cess  to  ye?  Av  we  quit 
this  nest  we'd  be  drappin'  the  natest  job  two  lads  ever 
tackled.  Ye  can  quit  av  ye  like,  but  I'm  shtayin',  avan 
if  the  ould  boy  himself  comes  down  to  look  iutil  the 
bizness." 

By  "  the  ould  boy,"  Carnes  meant  our  Chief,  and  not,  as 
might  be  supposed,  his  Satanic  majesty. 

I  smiled  at  the  notion  of  our  Chief  in  the  midst  of 
these  Trafton  perplexities,  and,  letting  Games'  tirade  re- 


A  BIG  HAUL.  147 

main  unanswered,  took  from  my  pocket  the  before  men- 
tioned note  book  and  began  a  new  mental  calculation. 

"  There  goes  the  ould  identical  Mephistophiles  I  used 
to  see  in  my  fairy  book/'  broke  out  Carnes  from  his  sta- 
tion by  the  window,  where  he  had  stood  for  some  moments 
silently  contemplating  whatever  might  present  itself  to 
view  in  the  street  below.  "  Look  at  'im  now !  Av  I 
were  an  artist,  wouldn't  I  ax  'im  to  sit  for  ' Satan'." 

I  looked  out  and  saw  'Squire  Brookhouse  passing  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street,  and  looking  closer,  I  decided 
that  Games'  comparison  was  not  inapt. 

In  the  days  of  his  youth  'Squire  Brookhouse  might  have 
been  a  handsome  man,  when  his  regular  features  were 
rounded  and  colored  by  twenty-two  Summers,  or  perhaps 
more ;  but  he  must  have  grown  old  while  yet  young,  for 
his  cadaverous  cheeks  were  the  color  of  most  ancient  parch- 
ment ;  his  black  eyes  were  set  in  hollow,  dusky  caverns ; 
his  mouth  was  sunken,  the  thin  lips  being  drawn  and 
colorless.  His  upper  lip  was  smooth  shaven,  but  the  chin 
was  decorated  by  a  beard,  long  but  thin,  and  of  a  peculiar 
lifeless  black.  His  eyebrows  were  long  and  drooped  above 
the  cavernous  eyes.  His  hair  was  straight  and  thin, 
matching  the  beard  in  color,  and  he  wore  it  so  long  that  it 
touched  the  collar  of  his  coat,  the  ends  fluttering  dismally 
in  the  least  gust  of  wind.  He  was  tall,  and  angular  to 
emaciation,  with  narrow,  stooping  shoulders,  and  the  slow, 
gliding  gait  of  an  Indian.  He  was  uniformly  solemn,  it 


148  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

would  be  a  mistake  to  say  dignified  ;  preternaturally  silent, 
going  and  coming  like  a  shadow  among  his  loquacious 
neighbors;  always  intent  upon  his  own  business  and  show- 
ing not  the  least  interest  in  anything  that  did  not  in  some 
way  concern  himself.  Living  plainly,  dressing  shabbily, 
hoarding  his  riches,  grinding  his  tenants,  superintending 
the  business  of  his  large  stock-farm,  he  held  himself  aloof 
from  society,  and  had  never  been  seen  within  the  walls  of 
a  church. 

And  yet  this  silent,  unsocial  man  was  a  power  in  Traf- 
ton ;  his  word  of  commendation  was  eagerly  sought  for ; 
his  frown  was  a  thing  to  be  dreaded;  his  displeasure  to  be 
feared.  Whom  he  would  he  elected  to  office,  and  whom 
he  would  not,  came  somehow  to  be  disapproved  by  all 
Trafton. 

"He  has  certainly  an  uncommon  ensemble"  I  said,  look- 
ing out  over  Games'  shoulder,  "  not  a  handsome  man,  to 
be  sure,  but  one  toward  whom  you  would  turn  in  a  crowd 
to  take  the  second  look  at.  I  wonder  where  Jim  Long 
would  place  him  in  the  scale  of  Trafton  weights  and 
measures?" 

"Not  under  the  head  of  the  model  Traftonite,"  replied 
Carnes,  still  gazing  after  the  receding  figure.  "He's 
guiltless  of  the  small  hands  and  feet,  perfumed  locks  and 
'  more  frill  to  the  square  yard  of  shirt  front'  required  by 
Jim  for  the  making  of  his  model.  By-the-bye,  what  the 
'Squire  lacks  is  amply  made  up  by  the  son.  When  Jim 


A  BIG  HAUL.  149 

pictured  the  model  Traftonite,  I  think  he  must  have  had 
Arch  Brookhouse  in  his  eye." 

"I  think  so,  too;  a  nature  such  as  Jim's  would  be 
naturally  antagonistic  to  any  form  of  dandyism.  Young 
Brookhouse  is  a  fastidious  dresser,  and,  I  should  say,  a 
thoroughly  good  fellow." 

"  As  good  fellows  go,"  said  Games,  sententiously.  "  But 
dropping  the  dandy,  tell  me  what  are  we  going  to  do  with 
Jim  Long?" 

"  It's  a  question  I've  been  asking  myself,"  responded  I, 
turning  away  from  the  window,  "  Jim  is  not  an  easy  con- 
undrum to  solve." 

"  About  as  easy  as  a  Chinese  puzzle,"  grumbled  Carnes, 
discontentedly.  "  Nevertheless,  I  tell  you,  old  man,  before 
we  get  much  further  on  our  way  we've  got  to  take  his 
measure." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,  and  the  moment  the  way  seems 
clear,  we  must  do  something  more." 

"What's  that?" 

"  We  must  explore  that  south  road,  every  foot  of  it,  for 
twenty  miles  at  least." 


150  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
'SQUIRE  BROOK  HOUSE  MAKES  A  CALL. 

The  first  train  due  from  the  city,  by  which,  supposing 
'Squire  Brookhouse's  message  to  be  promptly  received,  and 
his  commission  promptly  executed,  it  would  be  possible  for 
the  looked-for  detectives  to  arrive,  would  be  due  at  mid- 
night. It  was  a  fast,  through  express,  and  arriving  so  late, 
when  the  busy  village  gossips  were,  or  should  be,  peace- 
fully sleeping,  it  seemed  to  us  quite  probable  that  they 
would  come  openly  by  that  train. 

Of  course  we  expected  them  to  assume  disguise,  or  to 
have  some  plausible  business  in  the  town,  quite  foreign  to 
their  real  errand  thither  ;  but,  equally,  of  course  we  expect- 
ed to  be  able  to  penetrate  any  disguise  that  might  be  as- 
sumed by  parties  known  to  us,  or  to  see  beneath  any  busi- 
ness subterfuge  adopted  by  strangers. 

Until  midnight  then  we  had  only  to  wait,  and  employ 
our  time  profitably,  if  .we  could,  wrhich  seemed  hardly 
probable. 

I  remained  in  my  room  for  the  remainder  of  the  morn- 
ing, and  Carnes  went  out  among  the  gossipers,  in  search  of 
any  scrap  that  he  might  seize  upon  and  manipulate  into  a 
thing  of  meaning. 


'SQUIRE  BROOKHOUSE  MAKES  A  CALL.          151 

At  the  dinner  table  I  met  Dr.  Bethel.  He  was  his 
usual  calm,  courteous  self,  seeming  in  no  wise  ruffled  or 
discomposed  by  the  events  of  the  previous  day. 

We  chatted  together  over  our  dinner,  and  together  left 
the  table.  In  the  hall  the  doctor  turned  to  face  me, 
saying : 

"  If  you  have  nothing  better  to  occupy  your  time,  come 
down  to  my  house  with  me.  I  shall  enjoy  your  company." 

I  could  scarcely  have  found  a  way  of  passing  the  after- 
noon more  to  my  taste,  just  then,  and  I  accepted  his  invita- 
tion promptly. 

Outside  the  doctor's  dwelling,  quiet  and  order  reigned, 
thanks  to  Jim  Long's  officious  friendliness,  but  within  was 
still  the  confusion  of  yesterday;  Jim,  seemingly,  having 
exhausted  himself  in  the  hanging  of  the  doctor's  front 
door. 

Bethel  looked  about  the  disordered  rooms,  and  laughed 
the  laugh  ot  the  philosopher. 

"  After  all,  a  man  can  not  be  thoroughly  angry  at  the 
doings  of  a  mob,"  he  said,  stooping  to  gather  up  some 
scattered  papers.  "  It's  like  scattering  shot ;  the  charge 
loses  its  force;  there  is  no  center  to  turn  upon.  I  was  in 
a  rage  yesterday,  but  it  was  rather  with  the  author  of  the 
mischief  credited  to  me,  than  these  fanatical  would-be 
avengers,  and  then — after  due  reflection — it  was  quite 
natural  that  these  village  simpletons  should  suspect  me,  was 
it  not?" 


15:2  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"Candidly,  yes,"  I  replied  ;  "and  that  only  proves  the 
cunning  of  the  enemy  who  planned  this  business  for  your 
injury." 

Bethel,  who  was  stooping  to  restore  a  chair  to  its  proper 
position,  lifted  his  head  to  favor  me  with  one  sharp  glance.. 
Then  he  brought  the  chair  up  with  a  jerk ;  and,  taking 
another  with  the  unoccupied  hand,  said : 

"  This  is  hardly  a  picture  of  comfort.  Fortunately, 
there  is  a  condensed  lawn  and  excellent  shade  outside. 
Let's  smoke  a  cigar  under  the  trees,  and  discuss  this  matter 
comfortably." 

In  another  moment  we  were  sitting  cosily,  vis-d-vis,  on 
the  tiny  grass  plot,  styled  by  the  doctor  a  "  condensed 
lawn,"  with  a  huge  clump  of  lilacs  at  our  backs,  and  the 
quivering  leaves  of  a  young  maple  above  our  heads. 

The  doctor  produced  some  excellent  cigars,  which  we 
lighted,  and  smoked  for  a  time  in  silence.  Then  he  said : 

"  I  scarcely  flatter  myself  that  I  have  seen  the  end  of 
this  business.  I  quite  expected  the  raid  of  yesterday  to  be 
followed  by  a  formal  accusation  and  a  warrant  to-day,  in 
which  case — " 

"  In  which  case,"  I  interrupted,  "  I  will  be  responsible 
for  your  future  good  behavior,  and  go  your  bail." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  quite  seriously.  "  I  appreciate 
your  championship,  but  confess  it  surprises  me.  Why 
have  you  voted  me  guiltless,  in  opposition  to  the  expressed 
opinions  ot  two-thirds  of  Trafton  ?" 


'SQUIRE  BROOKHOUSE  MAKES  A  CALL.  153 

"  Perhaps,"  I  replied,  "  it  is  because  I  am  not  a  Traf- 
tonite,  and  am  therefore  without  prejudice.  To  be  per- 
fectly frank,  I  did  suppose  you  to  be  implicated  in  the 
business  when  I  came  here  yesterday ;  when  I  witnessed 
your  surprise,  and  heard  your  denial,  I  wavered ;  when  I 
saw  the  buried  clothing,  I  doubted ;  when  the  body  was 
discovered,  I  was  convinced  that  a  less  clever  head  and 
more  bungling  hand  than  yours,  had  planned  and  executed 
the  resurrection  ;  it  was  a  blunder  which  I  could  not  credit 
you  with  making.  If  I  had  a  doubt,  Barnard's  testimony 
would  have  laid  it." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Bethel,  with  real  warmth.     "  But 

I  might  have  had  confederates." 

"No.  Doctor  Barnard's  statement  as  to  the  manner  of 
the  child's  death  deprives  you  of  a  motive  for  the  deed  ; 
then  the  too-easily  found  tools,  and  the  stripped-off  cloth  ing 
could  hardly  be  work  of  your  planning  or  ordering.  De- 
pend upon  it,  when  Trafton  has  done  a  little  calm  think- 
ing, it  will  see  this  matter  as  I  see  it." 

"  Possibly,"  with  a  shade  of  skepticism  in  his  voice. 
"At  least,  when  I  have  unearthed  these  plotters  against 
me,  they  will  see  the  matter  as  it  is,  and  that  day  I  intend 
to  bring  to  pass." 

The  fire  was  nearly  extinct  on  the  tip  of  his  cigar,  he  re 
placed  it  in  his  mouth  and  seemingly  only  intent  upon  re 
kindling  the  spark;  this  done,  he  smoked  in  silence  a  mo 
ment  and  then  said. 


154  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"As  to  the  author  of  the  mischief,  or  his  motive,  I  am 
utterly  at  a  loss.  I  have  given  up  trying  to  think  out  the 
mystery.  I  shall  call  in  the  help  of  the  best  detective  I 
can  find,  and  see  what  he  makes  of  the  matter." 

Gracious  heavens  !  here  was  another  lion  coming  down 
upon  myself  and  my  luckless  partner !  Trafton  was  about 
to  be  inundated  with  detectives.  My  brain  worked  hard 
and  fast.  Something  must  be  done,  and  that  speedily,  or 
Carnes  and  I  must  retreat  mutely,  ingloriously. 

AVhile  I  smoked  in  a  seemingly  careless  reverie,  I  was 
weighing  the  pros  and  cons  of  a  somewhat  uncertain  ven- 
ture. Should  I  let  this  third  detective  come  and  risk  a 
collision,  or  should  I  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  avow  my 
identity,  explain  the  motive  of  my  sojourn  in  Trafton,  and 
ask  Bethel  to  trust  his  case  to  Carnes  and  myself?  Almost 
resolved  upon  this  latter  course,  I  began  to  feel  my  way. 

"A  good  detective  ought  to  sift  the  matter,  I  should 
think,"  I  said.  "I  suppose  you  have  your  man  in  view?" 

"Candidly,  no,"  he  replied,  with  a  dubious  shake  of  the 
head.  "  I'm  afraid  I  am  not  well  posted  as  regards  the 
police,  never  expecting  to  have  much  use  for  the  gentry. 
I  must  go  to  the  city  and  hunt  up  the  right  man." 

I  drew  a  breath  of  relief. 

"That  will  consume  some  valuable  time,"  I  said, 
musingly. 

"Yes,  a  day  to  go;  another,  perhaps,  before  I  find  my 
man.  I  shall  go  in  person,  because  I  fancy  that  I  shall  be 


'SQUIRE  BROOKHOUSE  MAKES  A  CALL.  155 

able  to  give  something  like  a  correct  guess  as  to  the  man's 
ability,  if  I  can  have  a  square  look  at  his  face." 

I  blew  a  cloud  of  smoke  before  my  own  face  to  conceal  a 
smile. 

"You  are  a  physiognomist,  then?" 

"Not  a  radical  one;  but  I  believe  there  is  much  to  be 
learned  by  the  careful  study  of  the  human  countenance." 

"  Give  me  a  test  of  your  ability,"  I  said,  jestingly,  and 
drawing  my  chair  nearer  to  him.  "  Have  I  the  material  in 
me  for  a  passable  detective?" 

"  My  dear  sir,"  he  replied,  gravely,  "  if  I  had  not  given 
you  credit  for  some  shrewdness,  I  should  hardly  have  made 
you,  even  in  a  slight  degree,  my  confidante ;  if  you  were  a 
detective  I  think  you  might  be  expected  to  succeed." 

"Thanks,  doctor;  being  what  I  am  I  can,  perhaps,  give 
you  the  key  to  this  mystery." 

"You?" 

"Yes,  I,"  tossing  away  my  cigar  and  now  fully  resolved 
to  confide  in  the  doctor.  "I  think  I  have  stumbled  upon 
the  clue  you  require.  I  will  tell  you  how." 

There  was  a  sharp  click  at  the  gate ;  I  closed  my  lips 
hurriedly,  and  we  both  turned  to  look. 

'Squire  Brookhouse,  if  possible  a  shade  more  solemn  of 
countenance  than  usual,  was  entering  the  doctor's  door- 
yard. 

My  host  arose  instantly  to  receive,  but  did  not  advance 
to  meet,  his  latest  guest. 


1 56  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

'Squire  Brookhouse  accepted  the  chair  proffered  him, 
having  first  given  me  a  nod  of  recognition,  and,  while 
Bethel  entered  the  house  for  another  chair,  sat  stiffly,  let- 
ting his  small,  restless  black  eyes  rove  about,  taking  in  his 
surroundings  with  quick,  furtive  glances,  and  I  fancied  that 
he  felt  a  trifle  annoyed  at  my  presence. 

"You  seem  quite  serene  here,  in  spite  of  yesterday's 
fracas,"  he  said  to  me,  iu  what  he  no  doubt  intended  for 
the  ordinary  affable  conversational  tone. 

He  possessed  a  naturally  harsh,  rasping  voice,  not  loud, 
but,  none  the  less,  not  pleasant  to  the  ear,  and  this,  coupled 
with  his  staccato  manner  of  jerking  out  the  beginnings  of 
his  sentences,  and  biting  off  the  ends  of  them,  would  have 
given,  even  to  gentle  words,  the  sound  of  severity. 

While  I  replied,  I  was  inwardly  wondering  what  had 
called  out  this  unusual  visit,  for  I  saw  at  once,  by  the  look 
on  Bethel's  face,  that  it  was  unusual,  and,  just  then,  a 
trifle  unwelcome. 

We  were  not  left  long  in  the  dark.  Scarcely  had  the 
doctor  rejoined  us  and  been  seated  before  the  'squire  gave 
us  an  insight  into  the  nature  of  his  business. 

"  I  am  sorry  our  people  gave  you  so  much  trouble  yes- 
terday, doctor,"  he  began,  in  his  stiff  staccato.  "Their 
conduct  was  as  discreditable  to  the  town  as  it  was  uncom- 
plimentary to  you." 

"  One  should  always  take  into  consideration  the  character 
of  the  elements  that  assails  him,"  replied  Bethel,  coolly. 


'SQUIRE  BROOKHOUSE  MAKES  A  CALL.  157 

"I  was  comforted  to  know  that  my  assailants  of  yesterday 
were  notably  of  the  canaille  of  the  town;  the  majority,  of 
the  rough,  vulgar  excitables,  who,  while  not  being,  or 
meaning  to  be,  absolutely  vicious,  are,  because  of  their  in- 
herent ignorance,  easily  played  upon  and  easily  led,  espec- 
ially toward  mischief.  The  leaders  most  certainly  were 
not  of  the  lower  classes,  but  of  the  lowest.  On  the  whole, 
I  have  experienced  no  serious  discomfort,  'Squire  Brook- 
house,  nor  do  I  anticipate  any  lasting  injury  to  my  prac- 
tice by  this  attempt  to  shake  the  public  faith  in  me." 

This  reply  surprised  me  somewhat,  and  I  saw  that  the 
'squire  was,  for  the  moment,  nonplussed.  He  sat  quite 
silent,  biting  his  thin  under  lip,  and  with  his  restless  eyes 
seemed  trying  to  pierce  to  the  doctor's  innermost  thought. 

The  silence  became  to  me  almost  oppressive  before  he 
said,  shifting  his  position  so  as  to  bring  me  more  promi- 
nently within  his  range  of  vision  : 

"  I  hope  you  are  right ;  I  suppose  you  are.  Arch  dis- 
displeased  me  very  much  by  not  coming  to  your  aid ;  he 
might,  perhaps,  have  had  some  influence  upon  a  portion 
of  the  mob.  I  regret  to  learn  that  one  or  two  of  my  men 
were  among  them.  I  believe  Arch  tried  to  argue  against 
the  movement  before  they  came  down  upon  you  ;  he  came 
home  thoroughly  disgusted  and  angry.  For  myself,  I  was 
too  much  indisposed  to  venture  out  yesterday. 

He  drew  himself  a  trifle  more  erect ;  this  long  speech 
seeming  to  be  something  well  off  his  mind, 


158  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"I  was  well  supported,  I  assure  you,"  replied  Bethel, 
courteously.  "  But  I  appreciate  your  interest  in  my  wel- 
fare. Your  influence  in  Trafton  in  considerable,  I  know." 

"Hardly  that;  hardly  that,  sir.  However,  such  as  it 
is,  it  is  yours,  if  you  need  it.  My  call  was  merely  to  ask 
if  you  anticipated  any  further  trouble,  or  if  I  could  serve 
you  in  any  way,  in  case  you  desired  to  make  an  investigation." 

Bethel  hesitated  a  moment,  seemingly  at  a  loss  for  a  reply. 

In  that  moment,  while  the  'squire's  sharp  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  him,  I  lifted  my  hand,  removed  my  cigar  from  my 
mouth  with  a  careless  gesture,  and,  catching  the  doctor's 
eye,  laid  a  finger  on  my  lip.  In  another  instant  I  was 
puffing  away  at  my  weed,  and  the  keen,  quick  eyes  of 
'Squire  Brookhouse  were  boring  me  clean  th rough. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Bethel,  after  this  pause,  and  without 
again  glancing  at  me.  "You  are  very  good." 

"  We  seem  to  be  especially  honored  by  rogues  of  various 
sorts,"  went  on  the  'squire.  "  Of  course  you  have  heard 
of  last  night's  work,  and  of  my  loss." 

The  doctor  bowed  his  head. 

"  This  thing  is  becoming  intolerable,"  went  on  the  usually 
silent  man,  "and  I  intend  to  make  a  stanch  fight.  If  it's 
in  the  power  of  the  detectives,  I  mean  to  have  my  horses 
back." 

"  You  will  bestow  a  blessing  upon  the  community  if  you 
succeed  in  capturing  the  thieves,"  said  Bethel. 

Then  the  'squire  turned  toward  me,  saying : 


"We  are  a  victimized  community,  sir.     I    suppose    you    liave 
found  that  out?" — page  161. 

159 


'SQUIRE  BIIOOKHOUSE  MAKES  A  CALL.  161 

"  We  are  a  victimized  community,  sir.  I  suppose  you 
have  found  that  out?" 

"  Judging  from  the  events  of  yesterday  and  last  night,  I 
should  think  so,"  I  replied,  with  an  air  of  indifferent  in- 
terest. "  From  the  conversation  I  heard  at  the  hotel  to- 
day, I  infer  that  this  thieving  business  is  no  new  thing." 

"No  new  thing,  sir." 

I  had  no  desire  to  participate  in  the  conversation,  so 
made  no  further  comment,  and  the  'squire  turned  again  to 
Bethel. 

"I  suppose  you  intend  to  investigate  this  matter?" 

Bethel  looked  up  to  the  maple,  and  down  at  the  grass. 

"  I  have  scarcely  decided,"  he  replied,  slowly.  "  I  have 
hardly  had  time  to  consider." 

"Ah!  I  supposed,  from  what  I  heard  in  the  town,  that 
you  had  made  a  decided  stand." 

"So  far  as  this,  I  have,"  replied  Bethel,  gravely.  "I 
am  determined  not  to  let  these  under  miners  succeed  in  their 
purpose." 

"  Then  you  have  fathomed  their  purpose  ?" 

"I  suppose  it  is  to  drive  me  from  Trafton?" 

"  You  intend  to  remain  ?" 

"Most  assuredly.  I  shall  reside  and  practice  in  Trafton 
so  long  as  I  have  one  patient  left  who  has  faith  in  me." 

"  That  would  be  an  unprofitable  game — financially." 

"  I  think  not,  in  the  end." 

Again  the  'squire  seemed  at  a  Ibss  for  words. 
11 


162  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

I  hugged  myself  with  delight.    The  dialogue  pleased  me. 

"I  like  your  spirit,"  he  said,  at  length.  "I  should  also 
like  to  see  this  matter  cleared  up."  He  rose  slowly,  pull- 
ing his  hat  low  down  over  his  cavernous  eyes.  "I  have 
sent  for  detectives,"  he  said,  slightly  lowering  his  tone. 
"Of  course  I  wish  their  identity  and  whereabouts  to  remain 
a  secret  among  us.  If  you  desire  to  investigate  and  wish 
any  information  or  advice  from  them,  or  if  I  can  aid  you 
in  any  ivay,  don't  hesitate  to  let  me  know." 

Dr.  Bethel  thanked  him  warmly,  assuring  him  that  if  he 
had  need  of  a  friend  he  would  not  forget  his  very  gener- 
ously proffered  service,  and,  with  his  solemn  face  almost 
funereal  in  its  expression,  'Squire  Brookhouse  bowed  to  me, 
and,  this  time  escorted  by  Bethel,  walked  slowly  toward 
the  gate. 

A  carriage  came  swiftly  down  the  road  from  the  direc- 
tion of  the  village.  It  halted  just  as  they  had  reached  the 
gate. 

I  saw  a  pale  face  look  out,  and  then  'Squire  Brookhouse 
approached  and  listened  to  something  said  by  this  pale-faced 
occupant.  Meantime  Bethel,  without  waiting  for  further 
words  with  'Squire  Brookhouse,  came  back  to  his  seat  under 
the  trees. 

In  a  moment  the  carriage  moved  on,  going  rapidly  as 
before,  and  the  'squire  came  back  through  the  little  gate 
and  approached  the  doctor,  wearing  now  upon  his  face  a 
look  of  unmistakable  sourtless. 


'SQUIRE  BROOKHOUSE  MAKES  A  CALL.  1 63 

"  Doctor,"  he  said,  in  his  sharpest  staccato,  "  my  young- 
est scapegrace  lias  met  with  an  accident,  and  is  going  home 
with  a  crippled  leg.  I  don't  know  how  bad  the  injury  is, 
but  you  had  better  come  at  once;  he  seems  in  great  dis- 
tress." 

The  doctor  turned  to  me  with  a  hesitating  movement 
which  I  readily  understood.  He  was  loth  to  leave  our  in- 
terrupted conversation  unfinished  for  an  indefinite  time. 

I  arose  at  once. 

"Don't  let  my  presence  interfere  with  your  duties,"  I 
said.  "You  and  I  can  finish  our  smoke  to-morrow, 
doctor." 

He  shot  me  a  glance  which  assured  me  that  he  compre- 
hended my  meaning. 

Five  minutes  later,  Dr.  Bethel  and  'Squire  Brookhouse 
were  going  up  the  hill  toward  the  house  of  the  latter,  while 
I,  still  smoking,  sauntered  in  the  opposite  direction,  lazily, 
as  beseemed  an  idle  man. 

I  felt  very  well  satisfied  just  then,  and  was  rather  glad 
that  my  disclosure  to  the  doctor  had  been  interrupted.  A 
new  thought  had  lodged  in  my  brain,  and  I  wished  to  con- 
sult Carnes. 

Just  at  sunset,  while  I  sat  on  the  piazza  of  the  hotel, 
making  a  pretence  of  reading  the  Trafton  Weekly  News,  I 
saw  Charlie  Harris,  the  operator,  coming  down  the  street 
with  a  yellow  envelope  in  his  hand. 

He  came  up  the  steps  of  the  hotel,  straight  to  me,  and  I 


164  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

noted  a  mischievous  smile  on  his  face  as  he  proffered  the 
envelope,  saying: 

"I  am  glad  to  find  you  so  easily.  I  should  have  felt  it 
my  duty  to  ransack  the  town  in  order  to  deliver  that." 

I  opened  the  telegram  in  silence,  and  read  these  words : 

The  widow  B.  is  in  town  and  anxious  to  see  you.  T.  C. 

Then  I  looked  up  into  the  face  of  young  Harris,  and 
smiled  in  my  turn. 

"Harris,"  I  said,  "  this  is  a  very  welcome  piece  of  news, 
and  I  am  much  obliged  to  you/' 

"I  knew  you  would  be,"  laughed  the  jolly  fellow.  "I 
love  to  serve  the  ladies.  And  what  shall  I  say  in  return?" 

"Nothing,  Harris,"  I  responded.  "I  shall  go  by  the 
first  train  ;  the  widow  here  referred  to,  is  a  particular  friend 
of  mine." 

Harris  elevated  his  eyebrows. 

"In  dead  earnest,  aren't  you?  Tell  me — I'll  never, 
never  give  you  away,  is  she  pretty  ?" 

"Pretty!"  I  retorted;  "Harris,  I've  a  mind  to  knock 
you  down,  for  applying  such  a  weak  word  to  her.  She's 
magnificent." 

"Whew,"  he  exclaimed,  "  It's  a  bad  case,  then.  When 
shall  we  see  you  again  in  Trafton  ?" 

"That  depends  upon  the  lady.  I'll  never  leave  the  city 
while  she  desires  me  to  stay." 

After  a  little  more  banter  of  this  sort,  Harris  returned 


'SQUIRE  BROOKHOUSE  MAKES  A  CALL.  1155 

to  his  duties,  and  I  went  tip-stairs,  well  pleased  with  the 
manner  in  which  he  had  interpreted  my  Chiefs  telegram, 
and  wondering  not  a  little  what  had  brought  the  widow 
Ballon  to  the  city. 

Carnes  and  I  had  another  long  talk  that  night,  while 
waiting  the  time  for  the  arrival  of  the  city  express. 

I  told  him  that  I  was  called  to  the  city  in  the  interest 
of  the  case  I  had  abandoned  after  getting  my  wound,  and 
that  unless  my  continued  presence  there  was  absolutely  in- 
dispensable, I  would  return  in  three  days,  at  the  farthest. 

I  gave  him  a  detailed  account  of  my  visit  to  Bethel,  with 
its  attendant  circumstances. 

"Bethel  will  hardly  make  a  decided  move  in  the  matter 
for  a  day  or  two,  I  think,"  I  said,  after  we  had  discussed 
the  propriety  of  taking  the  doctor  into  our  counsel.  "  I 
will  write  him  a  note  which  you  shall  deliver,  and  the  rest 
must  wait." 

I  wrote  as  follows : 

DR.  CARL  BETHEL, 

Dear  Sir — Am  just  in  receipt  of  a  telegram  which  calls  me  to  the 
city.  I  go  by  the  early  train,  as  there  is  a  lady  in  the  case.  Shall 
return  in  a  few  days,  I  trust,  and  then  hope  to  finish  our  interrupted 
conversation.  I  ildrik  your  success  will  be  more  probable  and 
speedy  if  you  delay  all  action  for  the  present. 

This  is  in  confidence.  ,r 

Yours  fraternally,  etc.,  etc. 

"There,"  I  said,  folding  the  note,  "That  is  making  the 
truth  tell  a  falsehood."  And  I  smiled  as  I  pictured  the 


1GG  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"  huly  in  the  case,"  likely  to  be  conjured  up  by  the  imagi- 
nations of  Harris  and  Dr.  Bethel,  and  contrasted  her 
charms  with  the  sharp  features,  work-hardened  hands,  and 
matter-of-fact  head,  of  Mrs.  Ballon. 

Just  ten  minutes  before  twelve  o'clock  Carries  and  my- 
self dropped  noiselessly  out  of  our  chamber  window,  leaving 
a  dangling  rope  to  facilitate  our  return,  and  took  our  way 
to  the  depot  to  watch  for  the  expected  experts. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  great  fiery  eye  of  the  iron  horse 
shone  upon  us  from  a  distance,  disappeared  behind  a  curve, 
re-appeared  again,  and  came  beaming  down  to  the  little 
platform. 

The  train  halted  for  just  an  instant,  then  swept  on  its 
way. 

But  no  passengers  were  left  upon  the  platform  ;  our  er- 
rand had  been  fruitless ;  the  detectives  were  still  among 
the  things  to  be  looked  for. 

The  next  morning,  before  daybreak,  i  was  en  route  for 
the  city. 


MRS.  BALLOU'S   PISTOL   PEACTICE.  167 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MRS.  BALLOU'S  PISTOL  PRACTICE. 

Half  an  hour  after  my  arrival  in  the  city,  I  was  seated 
in  the  private  office  of  our  Chief,  with  Mrs.  Ballou  op- 
posite me. 

I  had  telegraphed  from  a  way  station,  so  that  no  time 
might  be  lost.  I  found  the  Chief  and  the  lady  awaiting 
me ;  and,  at  the  first,  he  had  signified  his  wish  that  I 
should  listen  to  her  story,  and  then  give  him  my  version 
of  it. 

"She  seems  ill  at  ease  with  me,"  he  said,  "and  frankly 
told  me  that  she  preferred  to  make  her  statement  to  you. 
Go  ahead,  Bathurst ;  above  all  we  must  retain  her  con- 
fidence." 

Mrs.  Ballou  looked  careworn,  and  se.emed  more  nervous 
than  I  had  supposed  it  in  her  nature  to  be. 

She  looked  relieved  at  sight  of  me,  and,  as  soon  as  we 
were  alone,  plunged  at  once  into  her  story,  as  if  anxious  to 
get  it  over,  and  hear  what  I  might  have  to  say. 

This  is  what  she  told  me  in  her  own  plain,  concise,  and 
very  sensible  language,  interrupted  now  and  then  by  my 


168  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

brief  questions,  and  her  occasional  moments  of  silence,  while 
I  transferred  something  to  my  note-book. 

"  I  presume  you  have  wanted  to  know  what  I  did  with 
that  letter  I  took/'  she  began,  smiling  a  little,  probably  in 
recollection  of  her  adroit  theft.  "I  will  tell  you  why  I 
took  it.  When  you  first  showed  it  to  me,  the  printed  letters 
had  a  sort  of  familiar  look,  but  I  could  not  think  where  I 
had  seen  them.  During  the  night  it  seemed  to  come  to 
me,  and  I  got  up  and  went  into  the  parlor."  Here  she 
hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  went  on  hurriedly : 
"  Grace — my  girl,  you  know — has  a  large  autograph  album  ; 
she  brought  it  home  when  she  came  from  the  seminary, 
and  everybody  she  meets  that  can  scratch  with  a  pen,  must 
write  in  it.  I  found  this  precious  album,  and  in  it  I  found 
-this." 

She  took  from  her  pocket-book  a  folded  paper  and  put 
it  in  my  hand.  It  was  a  leaf  torn  from  an  album,  and  it 
contained  a  sentimental  couplet,  printed  in  large,  bold 
letters. 

I  looked  at  the  bit  of  paper,  and  then  muttering  an  ex- 
cuse, weiit  hurriedly  to  the  outer  office.  In  a  moment  I 
was  back;  holding  in  my  hand  the  printed  letter  of  warning, 
which  I  had  confided  to  the  care  of  my  Chief. 

I  sat  down  opposite  Mrs.  Ballon  with  the  two  documents 
before  me,  and  scrutinized  them  carefully. 

They  were  the  same.  The  letter  of  warning  was  penciled, 
and  bore  evidence  of  having  been  hastily  done;  the  album 


MRS.  BALLOU'S  PISTOL  PRACTICE.  160 

lines  were  in  ink  carefully  executed  and  elaborately  finished, 
but  the  lettering  was  the  same.  Making  allowances  for  the 
shading,  the  flourishes,  and  the  extra  precision  of  the  one, 
and  looking  simply  at  the  formation  of  the  letters,  the 
height,  width,  curves,  and  spacing  of  both,  and  the  resem- 
blance was  too  strong  to  pass  for  a  mere  coincidence. 

I  studied  the  two  papers  thoughtfully  for  a  few  moments, 
then  looked  at  Mrs.  Ballon. 

"You  should  have  told  me  of  this  at  once,"  I  began; 
but  she  threw  up  her  hand  impatiently. 

"Wait,"  she  said,  with  almost  her  ordinary  brusque- 
ness,  seeming  to  lose  her  nervousness  as  she  became  ab- 
sorbed in  the  task  of  convincing  me  that  she  thoroughly 
understood  herself.  "There  was  no  time  to  compare  the 
writing  that  night.  I  had  not  decided  -what  to  do,  and  I 
was  not  sure  then  that  they  were  the  same.  I  left  the 
album,  just  as  I  found  it,  and  went  out  and  harnessed  the 
horses.  While  I  was  helping  you  with  your  coat,  I  man- 
aged to  get  the  letter." 

"You  were  certainly  very  adroit,"  I  said.  "Even  now 
I  can  recall  no  suspicious  movements  of  yours." 

"I  made  none,"  she  retorted.  "Isawr  where  you  put 
the  letter,  and  it  was  easy  to  get  it  while  helping  you." 

She  paused  a  moment,  then  went  on  : 

"When  I  went  home,  after  driving  you  to  the  station> 
everybody  was  asleep.  I  knew  they  would  be;  I  always 
have  to  wake  them  all,  from  Fred  to  the  hired  girl.  I 

*8 


170  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

waked  them  as  usual  that  morning,  told  them  that  I  had 
discharged  you  for  impertinence,  and  ibr  abusing  the  horses, 
and  that  settled  the  matter.  In  the  afternoon  the  girls 
went  over  to' Morton's;  it's  only  a  mile  across  the  fields, 
and  a  clear  path.  I.  made  up  my  mind  that  I'd  have  them 
safe  back  again  before  dark,  and  I  knew  where  I  could 
get  a  good  man  to  take  your  place;  he  was  high-priced, 
but  1  knew  he  was  to  be  trusted,  and  I  had  made  up  my 
mind  to  keep  a  close  eye  on  the  girls,  and  to  send  someone 
with  them  wherever  they  -went.  After  they  were  gone,  I 
took  the  album  to  my  room,  locked  Fred  out,  and  compared 
the  letter  with  the  album  verse.  I  thought  the  writing 
was  the  same." 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  brushed  her  handkerchief  across 
her  lips,  and  then  went  on. 

"I  didn't  know  what  to  do,  nor  what  to  think — my  first 
thought  was  to  send  for  you,  then  T  became  frightened.  I 
did  not  know  what  you  might  trace  out,  with  this  clue,  and 
I  did  not  know  how  it  might  affect  my  daughter.  Grace  is 
lively,  fond  of  all  kinds  of  gayety,  especially  of  dancing. 
She  is  always  surrounded  with  beaux,  always  has  half  a 
dozen  intimate  girl  friends  on  hand,  and  is  constantly  on 
the  go.  There  are  so  many  young  people  about  Grove- 
land  that  picnics,  neighborhood  dances,  croquet  parties, 
buggy  rides,  etc.,  are  plenty ;  and  then,  Grace  often  has 
visitors  from  A  morn." 

"Where  is  Amora?"  I  interrupted. 


MRS.  BALLOU'S  PISTOL  PRACTICE.  171 

"  It  is  about  twenty-five  miles  from  Groveland.  Grace 
weut  to  school  at  Amora." 

I  made  an  entry  in  my  note-book,  and  then  asked : 

"  Is  there  a  seminary  in  Amora  ?" 

"Yes." 

"How  long  since  your  daughter  left  Amora,  Mrs. 
Ballon  ?" 

"She  was  there  during  the  Winter  term." 

"  Yes.     Did  Nellie  Ewing  ever  attend  school  at  Amora?" 

"  Yes." 

"When?" 

Mrs.  Ballon  moved  uneasily. 

"Nellie  and  Grace  were  room-mates  last  Winter,"  she 
replied. 

"  And  Mamie  Rutger  ?     Was  she  there,  too  ?" 

"She  began  the  Winter  term,  but  was  expelled." 

"Expelled!     For  what?" 

"  For  sauciness  and  disobedience.  Mamie  was  a  spoiled 
child,  and  not  fond  of  study." 

I  wrote  rapidly  in  my  note-book,  and  mentally  anathe- 
matized myself,  and  my  employers  in  the  Ewing-Rutger 
case.  Why  had  I  not  learned  before  that  Nellie  Ewing 
and  Mamie  Rutger  were  together  at  Amora  ?  Why  had 
their  two  fathers  neglected  to  give  me  so  important  a  piece 
of  information? 

Evidently  they  had  not  thought  of  this  fact  in  connec- 
tion with  the  disappearance  of  the  two  girls,  or  the  fact 


172  OUT  OP  A  LABYRINTH. 

that  Mamie  was  expelled  from  the  school  may  have  kept 
Farmer  Rutger  silent. 

I  closed  my  note-book  and  asked. 

"Did  any  other  young  people  from  Groveland  attend 
the  Amora  school?  Try  and  be  accurate,  Mrs.  Ballon." 

"  Not  last  Winter,"  she  replied  ;  "  at  least,  no  other  girls. 
Johnny  La  Porte  was  there." 

"  Who  is  Johnny  La  Porte?" 

"  His  father  is  one  of  our  wealthiest  farmers.  Johnny 
is  an  only  son.  He  is  a  good-looking  boy,  and  a  great 
favorite  among  the  young  people." 

"Do  you  know  his  age?" 

"Not  precisely;  he  is  not  more  than  twenty  or  twenty- 
one." 

"Where  is  Johnny  La  Porte  at  present?" 

"At  home,  on  his  father's  farm." 

"Now,  Mrs.  Ball  ou,  tell  me  who  is  Miss  Amy  Holmes?" 

She  started  and  flushed. 

"Another  school  friend,"  she  replied,  in  a  tone  which 
said  plainly,  "the  bottom  is  reached  at  last." 

Evidently  she  expected  some  comment,  but  I  only  said  : 

"One  more,  Mrs.  Ballon,  why  have  you  held  back  this 
bit  of  paper  until  now  ?" 

"lam  coming  to  that,"  she  retorted,  "when  you  have 
done  with  your  questions." 

"I  have  finished.     Proceed  now." 

Once  more  she  began : 


MKS.  BALLOU'S  PISTOL   PKACTICE.  173 

"1  was  worried  and  anxious  about  the  papers,  but,  on 
second  thought,  I  determined  to  know  something  more  before 
I  saw  or  wrote  you.  I  did  not  think  it  best  to  ask  Grace 
any  questions ;  she  is  an  odd  child,  and  very  quick  to  sus- 
pect anything  unusual,  and  it  would  be  an  unusual  thing 
for  me  to  seem  interested  in  the  autographs.  It  was  two 
days  before  I  found  out  who  wrote  the  lines  in  the  album. 
I  complained  of  headache  that  day,  and  Grace  took  my 
share  of  the  work  herself.  Amy  was  in  the  parlor  reading 
a  novel.  I  went  in  and  talked  with  her  a  while,  then  I 
began  to  turn  over  the  leaves  of  the  album.  When  I 
came  to  the  printed  lines,  I  praised  their  smoothness,  and 
then  I  carelessly  asked  Amy  if  she  knew  what  the  initials 
A.  B.  stood  for.  She  looked  up  at  me  quickly,  glanced  at 
the  album,  hesitated  a  moment  as  if  thinking,  and  then 
said :  '  Oh,  that's  Professor  Bartlett's  printing,  I  think, 
his  first  name  is  Asa.  He  is  an  admirable  penman.' 

"I  don't  think  Amy  remembered  the  lines,  or  she  would 
not  have  said  that.  I  don't  think  Professor  Bartlett  would 
begin  an  album  verse :  ( I  drink  to  the  eyes  of  my  school- 
mate, Grace.'  I  knew  that  Amy  had  told  a  falsehood,  and 
I  watched  her.  She  took  the  first  opportunity,  when  slie 
thought  I  did  not  see  her,  to  whisper  something  to  Grace. 
I  saw  that  Grace  looked  annoyed,  but  Amy  laughed,  and 
the  two  seemed  to  agree  upon  something. 

"  I  thought  I  would  come  to  the  city  the  next  day,  but 
in  the  morning  my  boy  was  very  sick;  he  was  sick  for 


174  OUT  OF  A  LABYJRINTH. 

more  than  two  weeks,  and  I  had  no  time  to  think  of  any- 
thing else.  Amy  helped  Grace,  and  was  so  kind  and 
useful  that  I  almost  forgave  her  for  telling  me  a  fib.  I 
had  sent  your  letter  back  during  Fred's  illness,  and,  when 
he  began  to  mend,  I  thought  the  matter  over  and  over.  I 
knew  it  would  be  useless  to  question  Grace,  and  I  did  not 
know  what  harm  or  scandal  I  might  bring  upon  my  own 
daughter  by  bringing  the  matter  to  your  notice.  I  tried 
to  convince  myself  that  the  similarity  of  the  printing  was 
accidental,  and,  as  I  had  not  the  letter  to  compare  with  the 
album,  it  was  easier  to  believe  so.  I  concluded  to  wait, 
but  became  very  watchful. 

"  One  night  Fred  brought  in  the  mail ;  there  was  a  letter 
for  Amy;  she  opened  it  and  began  to  read,  then  she  uttered 
a  quick  word,  and  looked  much  pleased.  I  saw  an  anxious 
look  on  my  girl's  face  and  caught  a  glance  that  passed  be- 
tween them.  By  and  by  they  both  went  up-stairs,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  I  followed,  and  listened  at  the  door  of  their 
room. 

"Amy  was  reading  her  letter  to  Grace.  I  could  tell  that 
by  the  hum  of  her  voice,  but  I  could  not  catch  a  word, 
until  Grace  exclaimed,  sharply,  '  What !  the  17th?'  'Yes, 
the  17th,  hush,'  Amy  answered,  and  then  went  on  with 
her  reading.  I  cpuld  not  catch  a  single  word  more,  so  I 
went  back  down-stairs.  It  was  then  about  the  ninth  of  the 
month,  and  I  thought  it  might  be  as  well  to  keep  my  eyes 
open  on  the  17th,  though  it  might  have  meant  last  month, 


MRS.  BALLOU'S  PISTOL  PRACTICE.  175 

or  any  other  month,  for  all  I  could  guess.  After  that  Amy 
seemed  in  better  spirits  than  usual,  and  Grace  was  gay  and 
nervous  by  turns.  On  tlie  17th  the  girls  stayed  in  their 
room,  as  usual — that  was  four  days  ago." 

She  paused  a  moment,  during  which  my  eyes  never  left 
her  face;  she  sighed  heavily,  and  resumed: 

"I  felt  fidgety  all  day,  as  if  something  was  going  to 
happen.  I  expected  to  see  the  girls  preparing  for  com- 
pany, or  to  go  somewhere,  but  they  did  no  such  thing. 
When  evening  came,  they  went  to  their  room  earlier  than 
usual,  but  I  sat  up  later  than  ,1  often  do.  It  was  almost 
eleven  o'clock  when  I  went  up-stairs,  and  then  I  could  not 
sleep.  I  stopped  and  listened  again  at  the  door  of  the 
girls'  room,  but  could  hear  nothing.  They  might  both 
have  been  asleep." 

"  It  was  very  warm,  and  I  threw  open  my  shutters,  and 
sat  dowrn  by  the  window,  thinking  that  I  was  not  sleepy, 
and,  of  course,  I  fell  asleep.  All  at  once  something  awoke 
me.  I  started  and  listened  ;  in  a  moment  I  heard  it  again  ; 
it  was  the  snort  of  a  horse.  There  was  no  moon,  and  the 
shrubbery  and  trees  made  the  front  yard,  from  the  gate  to 
the  house,  very  dark.  As  I  heard  no  wheels  nor  hoofs, 
of  course  I  knew  that  the  horse  was  standing  still,  and  the 
sound  came  from  the  front.  I  sat  quite  still  and  listened 
hard.  By  and  by  I  heard  something  else.  This  time  it 
was  a  faint  rustling  among  the  bushes  below — it  was  not 
enough  to  have  aroused  even  a  light  sleeper,  but  I  was  wide 


176  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

awake,  and  all  ears.     'Somebody  is  creeping  through  my 
rose  bushes/  I  said  to  myself,  then  tip-toed  to  my  bureau 
got  out  the  pistol  you  gave  me,  and  slipped  out,  and  down- 
stairs, as  still  as  a  mouse. 

"The  girls  slept  in  a  room  over  the  parlor,  and  their 
windows  faced  west  and  south  ;  mine  faced  north  and  west, 
so  you  see  I  had  no  view,  from  my  bed-room,  of  the  south 
windows  of  their  room.  The  croquet  ground  was  on  the 
south  side  of  the  house,  and  there  was  a  bit  of  vacant  lawn 
in  front  of  the  parlor,  also.  The  windows  below  were  all 
closed  and  so  I  could  not  hear  the  rustling  any  more. 

"I  sat  down  by  one  of  the  parlor  windows  and  peeped  out. 
Presently  I  saw  something  come  out  from  among  the 
bushes ;  it  was  a  man  ;  and  he  came  into  the  open  space 
carrying  a  ladder.  Then  I  knew  what  the  rustling  meant. 
He  had  taken  the  ladder  from  the  big  harvest-apple  tree 
in  front,  where  the  girls  had  put  it  that  afternoon,  and  was 
bringing  it  toward  the  house. 

"  The  man  stopped  opposite  the  south  windows  of  the 
girls'  room,  and  began  to  raise  the  ladder.  Then  I  knew 
what  to  do.  I  slipped  the  pistol  into  my  pocket,  went  out 
through  the  dining-room,  unbolted  the  back  door  as 
quietly  as  I  could,  crept  softly  to  the  south  corner  of  the 
house,  and  peeped  around.  The  ladder  was  already  up, 
and  somebody  was  climbing  out  of  the  window,  while  the 
man  steadied  the  ladder.  It  was  one  of  the  girls,  but  I 
could  not  tell  which,  so  I  waited.  When  she  stood  upon 


MES.  BALLOU'S  PISTOL  PRACTICE.  177 

the  ground  not  ten  feet  away  from  me,  I  knew  by  her 
height  that  it  was  Grace,  and  Amy  had  started  down  be- 
fore Grace  was  off  the  ladder.  Just  then  the  man  stepped 
back,  so  that  I  had  a  fair  chance  at  him.  I  took  aim  as 
well  as  I  could,  and  fired. 

"  The  man  yelled.  Grace  screamed  and  tumbled  over 
on  the  grass,  just  as  I  expected  her  to.  Amy  Holmes 
jumped  from  the  ladder,  ran  to  the  man,  and  said,  "quick  ! 
come !"  I  fired  again,  and  Grace  raised  herself  suddenly 
with  such  a  moan  that  I  thought  in  my  haste  I  had  hit  her. 

"I  threw  down  the  pistol,  ran  and  picked  her  up  as  if 
she  were  a  baby,  and  took  her  around  to  the  back  door. 
By  the  time  I  found  out  that  she  was  not  hurt,  and  had 
got  back  to  the  ladder,  the  man  and  Amy  were  gone,  and 
I  heard  a  buggy  going  down  the  road  at  a  furious  rate." 

She  paused  and  sighed  deeply,  looked  at  me  for  a  moment, 
and  then,  as  I  made  no  effort  to  break  the  silence,  she  re- 
sumed : 

"  It's  not  a  pleasant  ftory  for  a  mother  to  tell  concerning 
her  own  daughter,  but  when  I  think  of  Nellie  Ewing  I 
know  that  it  might  accidentally  have  been  worse. 

"I  commanded  Grace  to  tell  me  the  whole  truth.  She 
cried,  and  declared  that  she  was  under  oath  not  to  tell. 
After  a  little  she  grew  calmer,  and  then  told  me  that  she 
meant  110  harm.  Amy  had  a  lover  who  was  not  a  favorite 
with  her  guardian,  who  lives  somewhere  South.  Amy  was 

about  to  run  away  and  be  married,  and  Grace  was  to  ac- 

12 


178  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

company  her  as  a  witness.  They  both  expected  to  be  safely 
back  before  daylight.  Of  course  I  did  not  believe  this,  and 
I  told  her  so.  Her  actions  after  that  made  me  wish  that  I 
had  not  disputed  her  story.  I  have  used  every  argument, 
and  I  am  convinced  thai  nothing  more  can  be  got  out  of 
Grace.  She  is  terribly  frightened  and  nervous,  but  she  is 
stubborn  as  death.  Whatever  the  truth  is,  she  is  afraid  to 
tell  it." 

"And  Miss  Holmes;  what  more  of  her?" 

"Nothing  more;  she  went  away  in  the  buggy  with  the 
others." 

"The  others?" 

"Yes;  I  am  sure  there  were  two,  for  I  found  the  place 
where  the  buggy  stood  waiting.  It  was  not  at  the  gate, 
but  further  south.  There  was  a  ditch  between  the  wheel 
marks  and  the  fence,  and  nothing  to  tie  to.  Some  one  must 
have  been  holding  the  horses." 

"And  this  is  all  you  know  about  the  business?" 

"  Yes,  everything." 

""Where  is  your  daughter  now?" 

"At  home,  under  lock  and  key,  with  a  trusty  hired  man 
to  stand  guard  over  her  and  the  house  until  I  get  back,  and 
Avith  Freddy  and  the  hired  girl  for  company." 

"Does  she  know  why  you  came  to  the  city?" 

"Not  she.  I  told  her  I  was  coming  to  make  arrange- 
ments for  putting  her  to  school  at  a  convent,  and  I  intend 
to  do  it,  too." 


"Just  then  the  man  stepped   back,  so  that  I  had  a  fair  chance  at 
him.     I  took  aim  as  well  as  I  could,  and  fired." — page  177. 

179 


MRS.  BALLOTj's  PISTOL  PRACTICE.  .         181 

Making  no  comment  on  this  bit  of  maternal  discipline,  I 
again  had  recourse  to  my  note-book. 

"You  are  fixed  in  your  desire  not  to  have  your  daughter 
further  interviewed?"  I  asked,  presently. 

"I  am/'  she  replied.  "I  don't  think  it  would  do  any 
good,  and  she  is  not  fit  to  endure  any  more  excitement.  I 
expect  to  find  her  sick  in  bed  when  I  get  home." 

"  Do  you  think  your  shot  injured  the  man?" 

"I  know  it  did,"  emphatically.  "I  aimed  at  his  legs, 
intending  to  hit  them,  and  I  did  it.  He  never  gave  such 
a  screech  as  that  from  sheer  fright ;  there  was  pain  in  it. 
Amy  must  have  helped  him  to  the  carriage." 

"Is  this  escapade  known  among  your  neighbors?" 

"No.  I  hushed  it  up  .at  home,  giving  my  girl  and  hired 
man  a  different  story  to  believe.  I  could  not  get  away  by 
the  morning  train  from  Sharon,  and  so  started  the  next 
evening.  I  left  them  all  at  home  with  Grace,  and 
drove  alone  to  Sharon,  leaving  my  horse  at  the  stable 
there." 

"  You  certainly  acted  very  wisely,  although  I  regret  the 
delay.  Miss  Holmes  and  her  two  cavaliers  have  now  nearly 
four  days  the  start  of  us.  Did  you  notice  the  size  of  the 
man  at  the  ladder?" 

"  Yes ;  he  was  not  a  large  man,  if  anything  a  trifle  be- 
low the  medium  height." 

"  You  think,  then,  that  Miss  Holmes  made  a  willful  effort 
to  deceive  you,  when  she  told  you  that  the  album  verse  was 


182  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

written  by  Professor  JBartlett  ?  By-the-by,  is  there  a  Pro- 
fessor Asa  Bartlett  at  Amora  ?" 

"  Yes,  he  is  the  Principal.  If  you  could  see  him,  you 
would  never  accuse  him  of  having  written  a  silly  verse 
like  that.  I  am  sure  Amy  meant  to  deceive  me,  and  I  am 
sure  that  she  posted  Grace  about  it,  in  case  I  should  ask 
her." 

"  But  you  did  not  ask  her  ?" 

"  No.  One  does  not  care  to  make  one's  own  child  tell 
an  unnecessary  lie.  Grace  would  have  stood  by  Amy,  no 
doubt." 

It  was  growing  late  in  the  afternoon.  There  was  much 
to  do,  much  to  think  over,  and  no  time  to  lose.  I  was  not 
yet  prepared  to  give  Mrs.  Ballou  the  benefit  of  my  opinion, 
as  regarded  her  daughter's  escapade,  so  I  arranged  for  a 
meeting  in  the  evening,  promising  to  have  my  plans  de- 
cided upon  and  ready  to  lay  before  her  at  that  time. 

She  wished,  if  possible,  to  return  home  on  the  following 
day,  and  I  told  her  that  I  thought  it  not  only  possible,  but 
advisable  that  she  should  do  so. 

Then  I  called  a  carriage,  saw  her  safely  ensconced  therein, 
en  route  for  her  hotel,  and  returned  to  my  Chief. 

I  had  now  two  interests.  I  much  desired  to  arrive  at 
the  bottom  of  the  Groveland  mystery,  and  thought,  with 
the  information  now  in  hand,  that  this  was  quite  possible; 
and  I  also  desired  to  remain  at  my  post  among  the  Traf- 
tonites.  I  at  once  decided  upon  my  course.  I  would  tell 


MRS.  BALLOU'S  PISTOL  PRACTICE.  183 

my  Chief  Mrs.  Ballou's  story,  and  then  I  would  give  him 
a  brief  history  of  our  sojourn  in  Trafton  and  its  motive. 
After  that,  we  would  decide  how  to  act. 

There  was  no  pause  for  rest  or  food,  or  thought,  until  I 
had  given  my  Chief  a  history  of  Mrs.  Ballou's  vigil  and 
excellent  pistol  exploit,  and  followed  this  up  by  the  story 
of  my  Trafton  experience. 

His  first  comment,  after  he  had  listened  for  an  hour 
most  attentively,  brought  from  my  lips  a  sigh  of  relief;  it 
was  just  what  I  longed  to  hear. 

"  Well,  you  need  have  no  fear  so  far  as  this  office  is  con- 
cerned. 'Squire  Brookhouse  has  not  called  for  its  services. 


184  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

* 

PREPARATIONS  OF  WAR. 

"Bathurst,"  my  Chief  said,  settling  back  in  his  chair, 
and  eyeing  me  with  great  good  humor,  "  I  don't  see  but  that 
you  are  getting  on  swimmingly,  and  I  don't  feel  inclined 
to  dictate  much.  Your  Groveland  affair  is  looking  up. 
You  may  have  as  many  men  as  you  need  to  look  after  that 
business.  As  for  Trafton,  I  think  you  and  Games  have 
made  good  use  of  your  holiday.  I  think  you  have  struck 
something  rich,  and  that  you  had  better  remain  there,  and 
work  it  up ;  or,  if  you  prefer  to  go  to  Groveland  yourself, 
return  there  as  soon  as  possible." 

•"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  talk  as  I  think,"  I  replied.  "I 
believe  that  Trafton  is  ripe  for  an  explosion,  and  I  confess 
that,  just  at  present,  I  am  more  interested  in  Trafton 

than   in    Groveland,   besides .     In    my    report   from 

Groveland,  you   may  remember  that  I  mentioned  going 
to  the  station  to  fetch  Miss  Amy  Holmes  ?" 

"Yes." 

"And  that  this  young  lady  was  accompanied  on  that 
day  by  a  handspme  young  gentleman?" 

"Yes." 


PREPARATIONS  OF  WAR.  185 

"  "Well,  I  have  since  made  the  acquah  lance  of  this 
young  man." 

"Ah  !" 

"At  first  I  thought  it  only  a  coincidence^  and  dismissed 
the  matter  from  my  mind.  Since  I  have  heard  Mrs. 
Ballou's  story,  a  queer  thought'has  entered  my  head." 

"Explain." 

"This  young  gallant,  whom  I  first  saw  in  the  company 
of  the  runaway  Miss  Holmes,  is  Mr.  Arch,  or  Archibald 
Brookhouse,  of  Trafton." 

"  I  see,"  thoughtfully. 

"  And  the  initials  following  that  album  verse  are  A.  B." 

"A.  B. !  Archibald  Brookhouse !  There  may'loe  some- 
thing in  it,  but  should  you  feel  justified  in  suspecting  this 
young  man  as  the  possible  author  of  your  anonymous 
letter?" 

"  If  he  is  the  writer  of  the  album  lines,  yes." 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  ?" 

"  First,"  said  I,  "  we  must  call  in  the  dummy." 

"Yes." 

"  Then  I  want  a  good  man  to  go  to  Groveland  in  search 
of  information.  I  want  him  to  find  out  all  that  he  can 
concerning  the  character  of  this  Johnny  La  Porte,  who 
attended  school  at  Amora,  and  was  a  fellow-student  with 
Nellie  Ewing,  Mamie  Rutger,  and  Grace  Ballou." 

"Good." 

"  Then  he  must  learn  if  any  of  the  Groveland  youths 


186  OUT  OP  A  LABYRINTH. 

have  become  lame  since  last  Sunday,  and  if  any  of  these 
same  gentry  was  missing,  or  absent  from  home,  during  the 
night  of  the  17th,  for,  of  course,  Miss  Amy  Holmes  being 
on  his  hands,  the  driver  of  the  carriage  which  Mrs.  Ballon 
routed  that  night  must  have  been  absent  sometime,  //he  be- 
longed in  the  community.  ^  He  surely  had  to  dispose  of 
Miss  Holmes  in  some  way." 

"Do  you  think  it  probable  that  some  Groveland  Lothario 
was  mixed  up  in  this  elopement  business?" 

"I  think  it  not  improbable.  The  first  search  was  made, 
seemingly,  upon  the  supposition  that  all  Groveland  was 
above  suspicion,  and  that  search  failed.  I  intend  to  hold 
all  Groveland  Lotharios  upon  my  list  of  suspected  crimi- 
nals until  they  are  individually  and  collectively  proven 
innocent." 

"  Quite  right." 

"On  second  thought  we  had  better  let  the  dummy  re- 
main until  we  have  put  a  new  man  in  the  field ;  by  this 
time  he  must  know  something  about  the  people  he  is  among. 
AVho  can  you  send  to  Groveland  ?" 

"Wyman,  I  think." 

"Capital;  Wyman  is  good  at  this  sort  of  thing.  He 
had  better  present  himself  in  person  to  our  dummy,  hear 
all  that  he  can  tell,  and  then  deliver  your  letter  of  recall, 
and  see  him  safely  on  his  way  to  the  city  before  he  has 
time  to  open  his  mouth  for  the  benefit  of  any  one  else." 

"Very  good;  Wyman  is  at  your  disposal." 


PREPARATIONS  OF  WAR,  187 

I  drew  toward  mo  a  large  portfolio  containing  State  and 
county  maps.  It  lay  at  all  times  upon  the  office  table,  con- 
venient for  reference. 

While  I  was  tracing  the  eccentric  course  of  a  certain  rail- 
road, I  could  feel  my  Chief's  eyes  searching  my  counten- 
ance. 

"  Bathurst,"  he  said,  after  some  moments  of  silence,  and 
loaning  toward  mo  as  ho  spoke,  "I  believe  you  have  a 
theory,  or  a  suspicion,  that  is  not  entirely  based  upon  Mrs. 
Ballou's  revelation." 

"You  are  right,"  I  replied,  "and  it  is  a -suspicion  of  so 
strange  a  sort  that  I  almost  hesitate  to  give  it  utterance, 
and  yet  I  think  it  worthy  of  attention.  I  want  to  shadow 
this  cavalier,  Arch  Brookhouse." 

"Yes." 

"I  find  by  this  map  that  the  town  of  Amora  is  situated 
twenty-five  miles  from  Groveland,  and  thirty  miles  from 
Trafton.  Sharon,  the  nearest  railroad  communication  with 
Groveland,  is  thirty  miles  from  Amora,  so  that  the  distance 
from  Trafton  to  Sharon  is  sixty  miles,  and  the  seminary 
town  is  midway  between." 

My  Chief  made  a  sign  which  meant  "  I  comprehend ; 
go  on." 

"Now,  it  is  possible  that  accident  or  business  brought 
Mr.  Arch  Brookhouse  to  Sharon,  and  that  his  meeting  with 
Miss  Holmes  was  quite  accidental,  and  his  attendance  upon 
Miss  Holmes  and  Grace  Ballon  merely  a  chance  bit  of 


188  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

gallantry.  But  when  you  consider  that  he  seemed  equally 
well  known  to  both  young  ladies,  that  Sharon  is  a  small 
town,  and  a  dull  one,  and  that  Miss  Holmes  came  from 
Amora  that  morning,  is  it  not  just  as  probable  that  Mr. 
Brookhouse  traveled  from  Trafton  to  Amora  for  the  pur- 
pose of  escorting  Miss  Holmes  to  Sharon  ?  Now,  young 
men  of  our  day  are  not  much  given  to  acts  of  courtesy  ex- 
tending over  sixty  miles  of  railroad;  therefore,  if  Arch 
Brookhouse  visited  Sharon  for  the  sole  purpose  of  meeting 
these  two  young  ladies,  and  basking  in  their  society  for  a 
brief  half  hour,  it  is  fair  to  presume  that  he  is  more  than 
ordinarily  interested  in  one  of  them." 

"You  are  right,  Bathurst ;  at  least  it  would  seem  so." 

"Now  let  me  tell  you  all  that  I  know  concerning  the 
Brookhouses." 

Once  more  I  gave  a  minute  description  of  my  first  meet- 
ing with  Arch  Brookhouse,  and  of  the  second,  when  I 
recognized  him  at  Trafton.  Then  I  told  him  of  my  inter- 
view with  the  telegraph  operator,  of  the  telegram  sent  by 
Fred  Brookhouse  from  New  Orleans,  and  of  the  reply  sent 
by  Arch,  and  last  I  told  him  how  Louis  Brookhouse  had 
come  home,  accompanied  by  another  young  man,  on  the  day 
after  the  attempted  flight  of  Grace  Ballon,  and  how  Dr. 
Bethel  had  been  called  upon  to  attend  him,  he  having  met 
with  an  accident. 

My  Chief  stroked  his  chin  thoughtfully. 

"  I  see,"  he  said,  slowly,  "  you   have  some  nice  points 


PREPARATIONS  OF  WAR.  189 

of  circumstantial  evidence  against  these  young  gentlemen. 
How  do  you  propose  to  use  them  ?" 

"  First,  I  must  know  what  motive  took  Arch  Brook- 
house  to  Sharon,  and  find  out  if  either  of  the  Brookhouse 
brothers  have  been  students  at  Amora.  I  want  therefore 
to  send  a  second  man  to  Amora." 

"  Very  good." 

"  If  I  find  that  either,  or  both,  of  the  younger  brothers 
have  been  fellow-students  with  Grace  Ballou,  and  the 
missing  girls,  then  I  shall  wish  to  extend  my  search." 

"To  New  Orleans?" 

"  To  New  Orleans." 

"  Is  there  anything  more  ?" 

"  Yes ;  one  thing.  If  Carnes  goes  to  New  Orleans  I  shall 
want  a  telegraph  operator  in  Trafton." 

"  Then  you  wish  to  remain  in  Trafton  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  this  takes  me  back  to  the  other  matter.  I 
quite  expected  that  a  man  like  'Squire  Brookhouse  would 
have  called  upon  you  for  help.  If  he  has  employed  men 
from  either  of  the  other  offices,  we  can  easily  find  out  who 
they  are." 

"Easily." 

"I  shall  wish  to  inform  myself  on  this  point,  and  if 
possible,  return  to  Trafton  to-morrow  night.  I  am  to  see 
Mrs.  Ballou  again  to-night ;  now  I  think  I  will  have  some 
supper." 

I  arose,  but  stood,  for  a  moment,  waiting  for  any  word 


190  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

of  command    or  suggestion    my    Chief  might    have   to 
offer. 

He  sat  for  many  seconds,  seemingly  oblivious  of  my 
presence.  Then  he  looked  up. 

"  I  shall  make  no  suggestions/'  he  said,  waving  his  hand 
as  if  to  dismiss  both  the  subject  and  myself.  "  I  will  in- 
struct Wyman  and  Earle  at  once.  When  you  come  in  after 
seeing  Mrs.  Ballon,  you  will  find  them  at  your  disposal, 
and  give  yourself  no  trouble  about  those  other  detectives. 
I  will  attend  to  that." 

I  thanked  him  and  withdrew.  This  curt  sentence  from 
the  lips  of  my  Chief  was  worth  more  to  me  than  volumes 
of  praise  from  any  other  source,  for  it  convinced  me  that 
he  not  only  trusted  me,  but  that  he  approved  my  course 
and  could  see  none  better. 

I  saw  Mrs.  Ballou  again  that  evening,  and  put  to  her 
some  questions  that  not  only  amazed  her,  but  seemed  to 
her  most  irrelevant,  but  while  she  answered  without  fully 
comprehending  my  meaning  or  purpose,  some  of  her  re- 
plies were,  to  me,  most  satisfactory. 

After  I  had  heard  all  that  she  could  tell  me  concerning 
Mr.  Johnny  La  Porte,  I  gave  her  a  minute  description  of 
Arch  Brookhouse,  and  ended  by  asking  if  she  had  ever 
seen  any  one  who  answered  to  that  description. 

I  was  puzzled,  but  scarcely  surprised,  at  her  answer, 
which  came  slowly  and  after  considerable  reflection. 

Yes,  she  had  seen  such  a  young  man ;  I  had  described 


PREPARATIONS  OP  WAR.  191 

him  exactly.  She  had  seen  him  twice.  He  came  to  her 
house  in  company  with  Ed.  Dwight.  Dwight  was  an  agent 
for  various  sewing  machines;  he  was  a  jolly,  good-natured 
follow,  very  much  liked  by  all  the  young  Grovelanders;  he 
had  traveled  the  Grovcland  route  for  two  years,  perhaps 
three.  He  was  quite  at  home  at  Mrs.  Ballou's,and,  in  fact, 
anywhere  where  he  had  made  one  or  two  visits.  The  young 
man  I  had  described  had  been  over  the  Groveland  route 
twice  with  Ed.  Dwight,  each  time  stopping  for  dinner 
at  Mrs.  Ballou's.  His  name,  she  believed,  was  Brooks, 
and  he  had  talked  of  setting  up  as  an  agent  on  his  own 
responsibility. 

Did  she  know  Mr.  Dwight's  place  of  residence  ? 

He  lived  on  the  C.  &  L.  road,  somewhere  between 
Sharon  and  Amora.  Mrs.  Ballon  could  not  recall  the  name 
of  the  town. 

I  did  not  need  that  she  should;  a  sewing  machine 
agent  whose  name  I  knew,  and  who  lived  somewhere 

c)  ' 

between  Amora  and  Sharon,  would  not  be  difficult  to 
find. 

"  How  did  Mr.  Dwight  travel  ?" 

"  In  a  very  nice  covered  wagon,  and  with  a  splendid 
team." 

"How  long  since  Mr.  Brooks  and  Mr.  Dwight  paid  a 
visit  to  Groveland  ?" 

Mrs.  Ballou  thought  it  was  fully  six  months  since  their 
last  visit. 


192  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"  That  would  be  nearly  two  months  before  Mamie  Eutger 
and  Nellie  Ewing  disappeared  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Have  you  seen  Dwight  since  ?" 

"Oh,  yes;  he  comes  at  stated  times,  as  usual." 

It  was  growing  late,  and  I  was  more  than  satisfied  with 
my  interview  with  Mrs.  Ballou.  I  advised  her  to  keep 
Grace  for  the  present  under  her  own  eye  and,  promising 
that  she  should  see  or  hear  from  me  soon,  took  my 
leave. 

Mrs.  Ballou  had  announced  her  intention  to  return  by 
the  morning  train. 

We  could  not  be  traveling  companions,  as  I  was  not  to 
leave  the  city  until  afternoon. 

Beaching  my  room  I  sat  into  the  small  hours  looking 
over  my  notes,  jotting  down  new  ones,  smoking  and 
thinking. 

The  next  morning  I  saw  Wyman  and  Earle,  gave 
them  full  instructions,  and  arranged  to  receive  their  re- 
ports at  the  earliest  possible  moment,  by  express,  at 
Trafton. 

At  noon  I  was  in  possession  of  all  that  could  be  learned 
concerning  the  identity  of  the  detectives  employed  by 
'Squire  Brookhouse.  No  officer  of  any  of  the  regular 
forces  had  been  employed.  Mr.  Brookhouse  had  probably 
obtained  the  services  of  private  detectives. 

Private  detectives,  of  more  or  less  ability,  are  numerous 


^REPARATIONS  OF    WAR.  193 

in  the  city,  and  I  was  person  ally  known  to  but  few  of  these 
independent  experts.  Most  of  those  could  be  satisfactorily 
accounted  for;  and  I  turned  my  face  toward  Trafton,  feel- 
ing that  there  was  little  danger  of  being  "  spotted"  by  a 
too  knowing  brother  officer. 

13     *9 


194  OUT  OP  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

FLY  CROOKS-  IN  TRAFTON. 

My  train,  which  left  the  city  early  in  the  afternoon, 
would  arrive  in  Trafton  at  midnight.  Foreseeing  a  long 
and,  in  my  then  state  of  mind,  tedious  ride,  I  had  armed 
myself  with  a  well-filled  cigar  case,  and  several  copies  of 
the  latest  editions  of  the  city  papers,  and  we  had  not  been 
long  on  the  wing  before  I  turned  my  steps  toward  the 
smoking  car,  biting  off  the  end  of  a  weed  as  I  went. 

A  group  of  four,  evidently  countrymen,  were  just  be- 
ginning a  game  of  cards.  I  took  a  seat  opposite  them  and 
idly  watched  their  progress,  while  I  enjoyed  my  cigar. 

Presently  a  gentleman  from  the  front,  seemingly  attracted 
by  their  hilarity,  arose  and  sauntered  down  the  aisle,  taking 
up  his  station  behind  the  players,  and  quietly  overlooking 
the  game. 

He  did  not  glance  at  me,  as  he  passed,  but,  from  my 
lounging  position,  I  could  watch  his  face  and  study  it  at  my 
leisure.  At  the  first  glance  it  struck  me  as  being  familiar; 
I  had  seen  the  man  before,  but  where?  Slowly,  as  I  looked, 
the  familiarity  resolved  itself  into  identity,  and  then  1 
watched  him  with  growing  interest,  and  some  wonder. 


FLY  CROOKS  IN  TBAFTOJST.  195 

Seven  months  ago,  while  working  upon  a  criminal  case  I 
had  made  the  acquaintance  of  this  gentleman  at  a  thieves' 
tavern,  down  in  the  slums.  I  was,  of  course,  safely  dis- 
guised at  the  time,  and  in  an  assumed  character ;  hence  I 
had  no  fear  of  being  recognized  now. 

"  Dimber*  Joe"  had  been  doing  Government  service,  in 
consequence  of  his  connection  with  a  garroting  escapade, 
and  had  but  just  been  released  from  "durance  vile."  His 
hair  was  then  somewhat  shorter  than  was  becoming ;  his 
face  was  unshaven,  and  his  general  appearance  that  of  a 
seedy,  hard-up  rascal.  The  person  before  me  wore  his  hair 
a  little  longer  than  the  ordinary  cut ;  his  face  was  clean 
shaven,  his  linen  immaculate,  and  his  dress  a  well-made 
business  suit,  such  as  a  merchant  or  banker  abroad  might 
wear.  But  it  was  Dimber  Joe. 

Evidently  fortune  had  dropped  a  few,  at  least,  of  her 
favors  at  Dimber  Joe's  feet,  but  it  was  quite  safe  to  con- 
jecture that  some  one  was  so  much  the  worse  off  for  his 
present  prosperity. 

What  new  mischief  was  on  foot?  for  it  was  hardly  likely 
that  Dimber  Joe,  late  the  associate  of  river  thieves,  was 
now  undertaking  an  honest  journey. 

I  resolved  to  watch  him  closely  while  our  way  was  the 
same,  and  to  give  my  Chief  an  account  of  our  meeting,  to- 
gether with  a  description  of  Joe's  "get  up,"  at  the  first  op- 
portunity. 

*  Handsome. 


196  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

Accordingly,  I  remained  in  the  smoking  car  during  the 
entire  journey,  but  no  suspicious  or  peculiar  movement,  on 
the  part  of  Dimber  Joe,  rewarded  my  vigilance,  until  the 
brakeman  called  Trafton,  aud  we  pulled  into  that  station. 

Then  Dimber  Joe  arose,  stretched  himself,  flung  a  linen 
duster  across  his  arm,  and,  swinging  in  his  hand  a  small 
valise,  quitted  the  car,  stepped  down  upon  the  shadowy 
platform  just  ahead  of  me  ;  and,  while  I  was  looking  about 
for  Games,  vanished  in  the  darkness. 

"Well,  Games,"  I  said,  when  we  were  once  more  alone 
in  our  room  at  the  hotel,  "what  has  happened?  Have 
you  seen  anything  that  looks  like  a  detective?" 

"  Niver  a  wan,"  he  replied.  "  I've  kept  an  open  eye  on 
every  train  from  both  ways,  but  the  only  arrival  in  this 
city,  worth  making  mintion  of,  has  been  —  who  d'ye 
think  ?" 

"  Myself,  I  suppose." 

"  No,  sir !  Not  a  bit  of  it.  It's  a  cove  that  means  no 
good  to  Trafton,  you  may  depend.  It's  Blake  Simpson, 
and  he's  rooming  in  this  very  house." 

"Blake  Simpson  !  are  you  sure  f 

"  Av  coorse  I'm  sure  !  Did  ye  ever  know  me  to  miss  a 
face  ?  I  never  saw  the  fellow  before  h  ;  came  here,  but  I've 
made  the  acquaintance  of  his  phiz  in  the  rogue's  gallery. 
He  came  yesterday ;  he  wears  good  togs,  and  is  playing  the 
gentleman  ;  you  know  he  is  not  half  a  bad  looking  fellow, 
and  his  manner  is  above  suspicion.  He  is  figuring  as  a 


"Then  Dimber  Joe  arose,  stretched  himself,  flung  a  linen  duster 
across  his  arm,  and,  swinging  in  his  hand  a  small  valise,  quitted  the 
car."— page  196. 


FLY  CROOKS  IN  TEAFTON.  199 

patent-right  man,  but  he'll  figure  as  something  else  before 
we  see  the  last  of  him  in  Trafton,  depend  upon  it." 

Blake  Simpson  was  known,  at  least  by  name,  to  every 
man  on  the  force.  He  was  a  mixture  of  burglar,  street 
robber,  and  panel- worker ;  and  was  a  most  dangerous 
character. 

"  Games,"  I  said,  slowly,  "  I  am  afraid  some  new  mis- 
fortune menaces  Trafton,  if,  as  you  say,  Blake  Simpson  is 
is  already  here,  for  Dimber  Joe  came  down  on  the  train 
to-night,  and  is  in  Trafton." 

Carnes  uttered  a  long,  low  whistle. 

"  Blake  and  Dimber  Joe  !"  he  said.  "A  fine  pair, 
sure  enough  ;  and  in  what  shape  does  the  Dimber  come?" 

"  He  comes  well-dressed,  and  looking  like  a  respectable 
member  of  society." 

"  Well,"  with  a  prodigious  yawn,  "  we  got  here  first,  and 
we  will  try  and  sleep  with  one  eye  open  while  they  stay  in 
Trafton.  What  did  you  learn  about  the  Brookhouse  in- 
vestigation, Bathurst?" 

I  told  him  the  result  of  our  search  among  the  city  detec- 
tives, and  finished  by  saying  : 

"  Probably  the  new  debutants  will  be  strangers,  and  will 
not  interfere  with  our  movements.  I  wish  I  knew  whether 
Bethel  will  eventually  decide  to  employ  a  detective.  I 
don't  think  he  is  the  man  to  let  such  a  matter  drop." 

"He  won't  take  it  up  for  the  present,  I  fancy.  Dr. 
Barnard  is  dangerously  ill ;  was  taken  yesterday,  very  sud- 


200  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

denly.  They  depend  entirely  upon  Bethel ;  he  is  in  con- 
stant attendance.  I  heard  Porter  say  that  the  old  gentle- 
man's case  was  a  desperate  one,  and  that  a  change  for  the 
worse  might  be  expected  at  any  moment." 

I  was  sorry  to  hear  such  news  of  the  jovial  old  doctor. 
His  was  a  life  worth  something  to  the  community  ;  but  I 
was  not  sorry  to  learn  that  an  immediate  interview  with 
Dr.  Bethel  could  be  staved  off,  without  exciting  wonder  or 
suspicion  in  his  mind ;  for,  since  my  visit  to  the  city,  I  had 
reconsidered  my  intention  to  confide  in  the  doctor,  and  re- 
solved to  keep  my  own  counsel,  at  least  for  the  present. 

Previous  to  my  visit  to  the  city,  we  had  decided  that  it 
was  time  to  explore  the  south  road,  and  also  that  it  was  de- 
sirable to  "  get  the  measure"  of  Jim  Long  at  the  earliest 
opportunity. 

We  settled  upon  the  best  method  by  which  to  accomplish 
the  former,  and  undertake  the  latter,  object.  And  then 
Carnes,  who  had  been  very  alert  and  active  during  my 
absence,  and  who  was  now  very  sleepy,  flung  himself  upon 
his  bed  to  pass  the  few  hours  that  remained  of  darkness  in 
slumber. 

I  had  not  yet  opened  up  to  him  the  subject  of  the  Grove- 
land  operations,  thinking  it  as  well  to  defer  the  telling 
until  I  had  received  reports  from  Wyman  and  Earle. 

We  had  now  upon  our  hands  a  superabundance  of  raw 
material  from  which  to  work  out  some  star  cases.  But, 
just  now,  the  Groveland  affair  seemed  crowding  itself  to 


FLY  CROOKS  IN  TRAFTON.  201 

the  front,  while  the  Trafton  scourges,  and  the  villainous 
grave-robbers,  seemed  to  grow  more  and  more  mysterious, 
intangible,  and  past  finding  out. 

The  presence  of  Blake  Simpson  and  Dimber  Joe  gave 
me  some  uneasiness ;  but,  guessing  that  their  stay  in  Traf- 
ton would  bo  short,  I  resolved  not  to  bring  myself  into 
prominence  by  notifying  the  authorities  of  the  presence  of 
two  such  dangerous  characters,  but  rather  to  trust  them  to 
Games'  watchfulness  while  I  passed  a  day,  or  more  if 
need  be,  in  exploring  the  south  road. 

As  I  settled  my  head  upon  my  pillow  after  a  long  med- 
itation, I  remembered  that  to-morrow  would  be  Sunday, 
and  that  Tuesday  was  the  day  fixed  for  Miss  Manvers' 
garden  party. 


202  OUT  OP  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

SOUTHWARD  TO  CLYDE. 

Early  on  the  following  morning  I  visited  Trafton's  best 
livery  stable,  and  procuring  a  good  team  and  light  buggy, 
drove  straight  to  Jim  Long's  cabin,  intending  to  solicit  his 
companionship  on  my  ride.  But  the  cabin  was  deserted ; 
there  was  no  sign  of  Jim  about  the  premises;  and,  after 
waiting  impatiently  for  a  few  moments,  and  uttering  one 
or  two  resounding  halloos,  I  resumed  my  journey  alone. 

I  had  manufactured  a  pretext  for  this  journey,  which 
was  to  be  confided  to  Jim  by  way  of  setting  at  rest  any 
wonder  or  doubt  that  my  maneuvers  might  otherwise  give 
rise  to,  and  I  had  intended  to  seize  this  opportunity  for 
sounding  him,  in  order  the  better  to  judge  whether  it  would 
be  prudent  to  take  him  into  our  confidence,  in  a  less  or 
greater  degree,  as  the  occasion  might  warrant. 

Such  an  ally  as  Jim  would  be  invaluable,  I  knew;  but, 
spite  of  the  fact  that  we  had  been  much  in  his  society,  and 
that  we  both  considered  ourselves,  and  were  considered  by 
others,  very  good  judges  of  human  nature,  neither  Carnes 
nor  myself  could  say  truly  that  we  understood  Jim  Long. 

His  words  were  a  mass  of  absurd  contradictions,  be- 


SOUTHWARD  TO  CLYDE.  203 

traying  no  trait  of  his  undividuality,  save  his  eccentricity; 
and  his  face  was,  at  all  times,  as  unreadable  as  the  sphinx. 
When  you  turned  from  his  contradictory  words  to  read  his 
meaning  in  his  looks,  you  felt  as  if  turning  from  the  gam- 
bols of  Puck  to  peer  into  a  vacuum. 

Regretting  the  loss  of  Jim's  society,  as  well  as  the  op- 
portunity it  might  possibly  have  afforded,  I  urged  my 
horses  swiftly  over  the  smooth  sun-baked  road,  noting 
the  aspect  of  the  country  as  we  flew  on. 

Straight  and  level  it  stretched  before  me,  with  field, 
orchard,  and  meadow  on  either  hand ;  a  cultivated  prairie. 
There  were  well-grown  orchards,  and  small  artificial  groves, 
rows  of  tall  poplars,  clumps  of  low-growing  trees,  planted 
as  wind  breaks,  hedges  high  and  branching,  IOAV  and  closely 
trimmed.  But  no  natural  timber,  no  belts  of  grove,  no 
thick  undergrowth;  nothing  that  might  afford  shelter  for 
skulking  outlaws,  or  stolen  quadrupeds. 

The  houses  were  plentiful,  and  not  far  apart.  There  were 
the  pretentious  new  dwellings  of  the  well-to-do  farmers, 
and  the  humbler  abodes  of  the  unsuccessful  land  tiller,  and 
the  renter.  There  were  stacks,  and  barns,  and  granaries, 
all  honest  in  their  fresh  paint  or  their  weather-beaten 
dilapidation;  no  haven  for  thieves  or  booty  here. 

So  for  ten  miles ;  then  there  was  a  stretch  of  rolling 
prairie,  but  still  no  timber,  and  as  thickly  settled  as  before. 

Fifteen  miles  from  Trafton  I  crossed  a  high  bridge  that 
spanned  a  creek  almost  broad  enough  and  deep  enough 


204  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

to  be  called  a  river.  On  either  side  was  a  fringe  of  hazel 
brush  and  a  narrow  strip  of  timber,  so  much  thinned  by 
the  wood  cutter  that  great  gaps  were  visible  among  the 
trees,  up  and  down,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see. 

I  watered  my  horses  here,  and  drawing  forth  a  powerful 
field  glass,  which  I  had  made  occasional  use  of  along  the 
route,  surveyed  the  country.  Nothing  near  or  remote 
seemed  worthy  of  investigation. 

Driving  beneath  some  friendly  green  branches,  I  allowed 
my  horses  to  rest,  and  graze  upon  the  tender  foliage,  while 
I  consulted  a  little  pocket  map  of  the  country. 

I  had  been  driving  directly  south,  and  the  C.  &  L.  rail- 
road ran  from  Trafton  a  little  to  the  southwest.  At  a  dis- 
tance of  eighteen  miles  from  that  town  the  railroad  curved  to 
the  south  and  ran  parallel  writh  the  highway  I  was  now  travel- 
ing, but  at  a  distance  of  eight  miles.  Ten  miles  further 
south  and  I  would  come  upon  the  little  inland  village  of 
Clyde,  and  running  due  west  from  Clyde  was  a  wagon  road 
straight  to  the  railroad  town  of  Amora. 

I  had  started  early  and  driven  fast ;  consulting  my  watch 
I  found  that  it  was  only  half-past  ten. 

I  had  intended  to  push  my  investigation  at  least  twenty- 
five  miles  south,  and  although  I  was  already  convinced 
that  no  midnight  raiders  would  be  likely  to  choose  as  an 
avenue  of  escape  a  highway  so  thickly  dotted  with  houses, 
many  of  them  inconveniently  near  the  road,  and  so  in- 
sufficient in  the  matter  of  hills  and  valleys,  forest  and 


SOUTHWARD  TO  CLYDE.  205 

sheltering  underbrush.  I  decided  to  go  on  to  Clyde,  hop- 
ing, if  I  failed  in  one  direction,  to  increase  my  knowledge 
in  another. 

I  put  away  map  and  field  glass,  lit  a  fresh  cigar,  turned 
my  horses  once  more  into  the  high  road  and  pursued  my 
journey. 

It  was  a  repetition  of  the  first  ten  miles ;  broad  fields  and 
rich  meadows,  browsing  cattle  and  honest-eyed  sheep ; 
thickly  scattered  farm  buildings,  all  upright  and  honest  of 
aspect ;  the  whole  broad  face  of  the  country  seemed  laugh- 
ing my  investigations  to  scorn. 

When  I  found  myself  within  sight  of  Clyde  I  stopped 
my  team,  having  first  assured  myself  that  no  spectator  was 
in  sight  and  selected  from  the  roadside  a  small,  round  peb- 
ble. Looking  warily  about  me  a  second  time,  I  inserted 
it  between  the  hoof  and  shoe  of  the  most  docile  of  the  two 
horses. 

It  was  an  action  that  would  have  brought  me  into  dis- 
favor with  the  great  Bergh,  but  in  the  little  game  I  was 
about  to  play,  the  assistance  which  a  lame  horse  could  ren- 
der seemed  necessary. 

I  promised  the  martyr  a  splendid  rub  down  and  an 
extra  feed  as  a  compensation,  and  •  we  moved  on  slowly 
toward  our  destination,  the  near  horse  limping  painfully, 
and  his  comrade  evidently  much  amazed,  and  not  a  little 
disgusted,  at  this  sudden  change  of  gait. 

The  little  village  of  Clyde  was  taking  its  noontide  nap 


206  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

when  I  drove  clown  its  principal  street,  and  I  felt  like  a 
wolf  in  Arcadia ;  all  was  so  peaceful,  so  clean,  so  prim  and 
so  silent. 

A  solitary  man  emerging  from  a  side  street  roused  me 
to  action.  I  drove  forward  and  checked  my  horses  directly 
before  him. 

Could  I  find  a  livery  stable  in  the  town  ?  And  was 
there  such  a  thing  as  a  hotel  ? 

Yes,  there  was  a  sort  of  a  stable,  at  least  anybody  could 
get  a  feed  at  Larkins'  barn,  and  he  kept  two  or  three 
horses  for  hire.  As  for  a  hotel,  there  it  was  straight  ahead 
of  me ;  that  biggish  house  with  the  new  blinds  on  it. 

Being  directed  to  Larkins',  I  thanked  my  informant, 
and  was  soon  making  my  wants  known  to  Larkins  him- 
self. 

Thinking  it  quite  probable  that  the  hired  team  which  I 
drove  might  be  known  to  some  denizen  of  Clyde,  I  at  once 
announced  myself  as  from  Trafton ;  adding,  that  I  had 
driven  out  toward  Clyde  on  business,  and,  being  told  that 
I  could  reach  Baysville  by  a  short  cut  through  or  near 
Clyde,  I  had  driven  on,  but  one  of  my  horses  having  sud- 
denly become  lame,  I  had  decided  to  rest  at  Clyde,  and 
then  return  to  Trafton.  I  had  been  told  that  Baysville 
was  not  more  than  seven  miles  from  Clyde. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  state  that  I  had  really  no  in- 
tention of  visiting  Baysville,  and  that  my  map  had  in- 
formed me  as  to  its  precise  location. 


SOUTHWAKD  TO  CLYDE.  207 

The  truth  was  that  I  had  dropped  for  the  moment  the 
Trafton  case,  and  had  visited  Clyde  in  the  interest  of 
Groveland,  thinking  it  not  unlikely  that  this  little  hamlet, 
beino-  so  near  Amora,  might  be  within  the  area  traversed 
by  Mr.  Ed.  Dwight,  the  sewing  machine  agent. 

He  was  said  to  live  somewhere  between  Amora  and 
Sharon,  perhaps  here  I  could  learn  the  precise  location  of 
his  abiding  place. 

Leaving  my  tired  horses  to  the  care  of  Larkins,  I  next 
bent  my  steps  towards  the  commodious  dwelling  which  did 
duty  as  hotel.  There  was  no  office,  but  the  sitting-room, 
with  its  homely  rag  carpet,  gaudy  lithographs,  old  fashioned 
rocker,  and  straight-backed  "  cane  seats,"  was  clean  and 
cool.  There  was  a  small,  organ  in  one  corner,  a  sewing 
machine  in  another,  and  an  old  fashioned  bureau  in  a 
third. 

A  little  girl,  of  fourteen  years  or  less,  entered  the  room 
timidly,  followed  by  two  younger  children.  She  took  from 
the  bureau  a  folded  cloth,  snowy  and  smooth,  and  left  the 
room  quietly,  but  the  younger  ones,  less  timid,  and  perhaps 
more  curious,  remained. 

Perching  themselves  uncomfortably  upon  the  extreme 
edges  of  two  chairs,  near  together  but  remote  from  me, 
they  blinked  and  stared  perse veringly,  until  I  broke  the 
silence  and  set  them  at  their  ease  by  commencing  a  lively 
conversation. 

The  organ  was  first  discussed,  then  the  sewing  machine 


208  OUT  OF  A  L,ABiKLNTH. 

furnished  a  fresh  topic.  After  a  time  my  dinner  was 
served:  but,  during  the  half-hour  of  waiting,  while  my 
hostess  concocted  yellow  soda  biscuit,  and  fried  monstrous 
slices  of  ham,  I  had  gathered,  from  my  seemingly  careless 
chatter  with  the  children,  some  valuable  information. 
While  I  ate  my  dinner,  I  had  leisure  to  consider  what  I 
had  heard. 

My  hostess  had  not  purchased  her  sewing  machine  of 
Ed.  D wight,  but  he  had  been  there  to  repair  it;  besides,  he 
always  stopped  there  when  making  his  regular  journeys 
through  Clyde.  They  all  liked  D  wight,  the  children  had 
declared  ;  he  could  play  the  organ,  and  he  sang  such  funny 
songs.  He  could  dance,  too,  "like  anything."  He  lived 
at  Amora,  but  he  had  told  their  mother,  when  he  had  paid 
his  last  visit,  that  he  intended  to  sell  out  his  route  soon, 
and  go  away.  He  was  going  into  another  business. 

If  Mr.  Dwight  lived  at  Amora,  then  Mrs.  Ballon  had 
misunderstood  or  been  misinformed.  She  was  the  reverse 
of  stupid,  and  not  likely  to  err  in  understanding.  If  she 
had  been  misinformed,  had  it  not  been  for  some  purpose  ? 

The  machine  agent  had  talked  of  abandoning  his  present 
business,  and  leaving  the  country  shortly. 

If  this  was  true,  then  it  would  be  well  to  know  where 
he  was  going,  and  what  his  new  occupation  was  to  be. 

Before  I  had  finished  doing  justice  to  my  country  din- 
ner, I  had  decided  how  to  act. 

Returning  to  Larkins'  stable  I  found  that  he  had  dis-* 


SOUTHWAED  TO  CLYDE.  209 

covered  the  cause  of  my  horse's  lameness,  and  listened  to 
his  rather  patronizing  discourse  upon  the  subject  of  "halts 
and  sprains,"  with  due  meekness,  as  well  as  a  profound 
consciousness  that  he  had  mentally  set  me  down  as  a  city 
blockhead,  shockingly  ignorant  of  "horse  lore,"  and  wholly 
unfit  to  draw  the  ribbons  over  a  decent  beast. 

He  had  been  assisted  to  this  conclusion  by  a  neighboring 
Clydeite,  who,  much  to  my  annoyance,  had  sauntered  in, 
and,  recognizing  not  only  the  team,  but  myself,  had  volun- 
teered the  information  that : 

"Them  was  Dykeman's  bays/'  and  that  I  was  "a  rich 
city  fellow  that  was  stayin'  at  Trafton;"  he  had  "seen me 
at  the  hotel  the  last  time  he  hauled  over  market  stuff." 

Having  ascertained  my  position  in  the  mind  of  Mr. 
Larkins,  I  consulted  him  as  to  the  propriety  of  driving  the 
bays  over  to  Amora  and  back  that  afternoon. 

Larkins  eyed  me  inquisitively. 

"I  'spose  then  you'll  want  to  get  back  to  Trafton  to- 
night?" he  queried. 

Yes,  I  wanted  to  get  back  as  soon  as  possible,  but  if ' 
Larkins  thought  it  imprudent  to  drive  so  far  with  the  team, 
I  would  take  fresh  horses,  if  he  had  them  to  place  at  my 
disposal.  And  then,  having  learned  from  experience  that 
ungratified  curiosity,  especially  the  curiosity  of  the  country 
bum;  kin  with  a  taste  for  gossip,  is  often  the  detective's 
worst  enemy,  I  explained  that  I  had  learned  that  the  dis- 
tance to  Baysville  was  greater  than  I  had  supposed,  and  I 

14 


210  OUT  OF  A 

hud  decided  to  drive  over  to  Amora  to  make  a  call  upon 
an  acquaintance  who  was  in  business  there. 

Mr.  Larkins  manifested  a  desire  to  know  the  name  of 
my  Amora  acquaintance,  and  was  promptly  enlightened. 

I  wanted  to  call  on  Mr.  Ed.  Dwight,  of  sewing  machine 
fame. 

And  now  I  was  the  helpless  victim  in  the  hands  of  the 
ruthless  and  inquisitive  Larkins. 

He  knew  Ed.  Dwight  "like  a  book."  Ed.  always  "  put 
up"  with  him,  and  he  was  a  "  right  good  fellow,  any  way 
you  could  fix  it."  In  short,  Larkins  was  ready  and  will- 
ing to  act  as  my  pilot  to  Amora  ;  he  had  "got  a  fly  in'  span 
of  roans,"  and  would  drive  me  over  to  Amora  in  "less 
than  no  time";  he  "didn't  mind  seeing  Ed.  himself,"  etc., 
etc. 

There  was  no  help  for  it.  Larkins  evidently  did  not 
intend  to  trust  his  roans  to  my  unskilled  hands,  so  I  ac- 
cepted the  situation,  and  was  soon  bowling  over  the  road 
to  Amora,  tetc-d-tete  with  the  veriest  interrogation  point  in 
human  guise  that  it  was  ever  my  lot  to  meet. 

Larkins  did  not  converse ;  he  simply  asked  questions. 
His  interest  in  myself,  my  social  and  financial  standing,  my 
occupation,  my  business  or  pleasure  in  Trafton,  my  past 
and  my  future,  "was  something  surprising  considering  the 
length,  or  more  properly  the  brevity  of  our  acquaintance. 

Even  my  (supposed)  relatives,  near  and  remote,  came  in 
for  a  share  of  his  generous  consideration. 


SOUTHWARD  TO  CLYDE.  211 

To  have  given  unsatisfactory  answers  would  have  been 
to  provoke  outside  investigation. 

A  detective's  first  care  should  be  to  clear  up  all  doubt  or 
uncertainty  concerning  himself.  Let  an  inquisitive  person 
think  that  he  knows. a  little  more  of  your  private  history 
than  do  his  neighbors,  and  you  disarm  him;  he  has.  now 
no  incentive  to  inquiry.  He  may  ventilate  his  knowledge 
very  freely,  but  by  so  doing  he  simply  plays  into  your 
hands. 

If  the  scraps  of  family  history,  which  I  dealt  out  to 
Larkins  during  that  drive,  astonished  and  edified  that 
worthy,  they  would  have  astonished  and  edified  my  most 
intimate  friend  none  the  less. 

By  the  time  we  had  reached  our  destination,  I  was  burst- 
ing with  merriment,  and  he,  with  newly  acquired  knowl- 
edge. 

I  had  made  no  attempt  to  extract  information  concern- 
ing Ed.  Dwight,  on  the  route.  I  hoped  soon  to  interview 
that  gentleman  in  propricepersonce,  and  any  knowledge  not 
to  be  gained  from  the  interview  1  could  "  sound"  lor  on 
the  return  drive. 


212  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  SEWING  MACHINE  AGENT. 

On  arriving  within  sight  of  Amora,  I  had  reason  to 
congratulate  myself  that  I  had  brought  Larkins  along  as 
convoy. 

Amora  was  by  no  means  a  city,  but  it  was  large  enough 
to  make  a  search  after  Mr.  Dwight  a  proceeding  possibly 
lengthy,  and  perhaps  difficult. 

Larkins  knew  all  about  it.  We  drove  past  the  Semi- 
nary, quite  a  large  and  imposing  structure,  surrounded  by 
neat  and  tastefully  laid  out  grounds,  through  a  cheery- 
looking  business  street,  and  across  a  bridge,  over  a  hill,  and 
thence  down  a  street  which,  while  it  was  clean,  well  built, 
and  thrifty  of  aspect,  was  evidently  not  the  abode  of  Amora's 
la  beau  monde. 

In  another  moment  Larkins  was  pulling  in  his  reins  be- 
fore a  large,  unpainted  dwelling,  in  front  of  which  stood  a 
pole  embellished  with  the  legend,  "Boarding  House." 

Several  inquiring  faces  could  be  seen  through  the  open 
windows,  and  the  squeak  of  an  untuneful  violin  smote  our 
ears,  as  we  approached  the  door. 

Larkins,  who  seemed  very  much  at  home,  threw  open 


A  SEWING  MACHINE  AGENT.  213 

the  street  door ;  we  turned  to  the  right,  and  were  almost 
instantly  standing  in  a  large,  shabbily-furnished  parlor. 

Two  of  the  aforementioned  faces,  carried  on  the  shoulders 
of  two  blowzy-looking  young  women,  were  vanishing 
through  a  rear  door,  through  which  the  tones  of  the  violin 
sounded  louder  and  shriller  than  before.  Three  occupants 
still  remained  in  the  room,  and  to  one  of  these,  evidently 
the  "  landlady,"  Larkins  addressed  himself. 

"  Good  evening,  Mrs.  Cole.  We  want  to  see  Ed.  I  hear 
his  fiddle,  so  I  s'pose  he  can  l^e  seen  ?" 

Proffering  us  two  hard,  uninviting  chairs,  Mrs.  Cole 
vanished,  and,  through  the  half-closed  door,  we  could  hear 
her  voice,  evidently  announcing  our  presence,  but  the 
violin  and  "Lannigan's  Ball"  went  on  to  the  end.  Like 
another  musical  genius  known  to  fame,  Mr.  D wight  evi- 
dently considered  "  music  before  all  else." 

With  the  last  note  of  the  violin  came  the  single  syllable, 
"Eh?"  in  a  voice  not  unpleasant,  but  unnecessarily 
loud. 

Mrs.  Cole  repeated  her  former  sentence ;  there  was  the 
sound  of  some  one  rising,  quick  steps  crossed  the  floor  and, 
as  the  door  swung  inward  to  admit  Mr.  Dwight,  I  advanced 
quickly  and  with  extended  hand. 

When  he  halted  before  me,  however,  I  stepped  back  in 
feigned  surprise  and  confusion. 

But  Dwight  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  Before  I  could 
drop  or  withdraw  my  hand,  he  seized  it  in  his  own  large 


214  OUT  OF  A  LABYKINTH. 

palm,  and  shook  it  heartily,  the  most  jovial  of  smiles  light- 
ing his  face  meanwhile. 

"  You've  got  the  advantage  of  me,  just  now," -he  said,  in 
the  same  loud,  cheery  tone  we  had  heard  from  the  kitchen, 
"but  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  all  the  same.  Lark  ins  !  hallo, 
Larkins,  how  are  you,"  and,  dropping  my  hand  as  suddenly 
as  he  had  grasped  it,  Dwight  turned  to  salute  Larkins. 

When  their  greeting  was  over,  I  stammered  forth  my  ex- 
planation. 

I  had  made  a  mistake.  Mr.  DeWhyte  must  pardon  it 
Hearing  at  Clyde  that  a  Mr.  DeWhyte  was  living  in  Amora, 
and  that  he  was  engaged  in  the  sale  of  sewing  machines, 
I  had  supposed  it  to  be  none  other  than  an  old  school  friend 
of  that  name,  who,  when  last  I  heard  of  him,  was  general 
agent  for  a  city  machime  manufactory.  It  was  a  mistake 
which  I  trusted  Mr.  DeWhyte  would  pardon.  I  then  pre- 
sented my  card  and  retired  within  myself. 

But  the  genial  Dwight  was  once  more  "  happy  to  know 
me."  Shifting  his  violin,  which  he  had  brought  into  the 
room,  from  underneath  his  left  elbow,  he  rested  it  upon  his 
knee,  and  launched  into  a  series  of  questions  concerning  in y 
suppositions  friend,  which  resulted  in  the  discovery  that 
their  names,  though  similar,  were  not  the  same,  and  that 
the  existence  of  a  Mr.  Edward  DeWhyte  and  of  Ed. 
Dwight,  both  following  the  same  occupation,  was  not  after 
all  a  very  remarkable  coincidence,  although  one  liable  to 
cause  mistakes  like  the  one  just  made  by  me. 


"When  he  halted  before  me,  however,  I  stepped  back  in  feigned 
surprise  and  confusion." — page  213. 

215 


A  SEWING  MACHINE  AGENT.  21  7 

After  this  we  were  more  at  our  ease.  „  I  proffered  my 
cigar  case,  and  both  Larkins  and  Dwight  accepted  weeds, 
Dwight  remarking,  as  he  arose  to  take  some  matches  from 
a  card-board  match  safe  under  the  chimney,  that,  "  smok- 
ing was  permitted  in  the  parlor,"  adding,  as  he  struck  a 
match  on  the  sole  of  his  boot,  that  he  "  believed  in  comfort, 
and  would  not  board  where  they  were  too  high-toned  to 
allow  smoking." 

Conversation  now  became  general ;  rather  Larkins, 
Dwight,  and  the  two  hitherto  silent "  boarders"  talked,  and 
I  listened,  venturing  only  an  occasional  remark,  and  study- 
ing my  "  subject"  with  secret  interest. 

"  When  are  you  comin'  our  way  again,  Dwight  ?"  asked 
Larkins,  as,  after  an  hour's  chat,  we  rose  to  take  our  leave. 

"  I  don't  know,  Lark.  ;  I  don't  know,"  said  Dwight,  in- 
serting his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  jingling  some  loose 
coin  or  keys  as  he  replied.  "  I  don't  think  I'll  make  many 
more  tj^)s." 

"  Sho!     Ye  ain't  goin'  to  take  a  new  route,  I  hope?" 

"  N-no ;  I  think  I'll  try  a  new  deal.  I've  got  a  little 
down  on  the  S.  M.  biz.,  and  talk  of  taking  up  my  old 
trade." 

"What!  the  show  business?" 

"  Yes ;  I've  got  a  pretty  good  chance  for  salary,  and 
guess  I'll  go  down  south  and  do  a  little  of  the  heel  and 
toe  business  this  Winter,"  rattling  his  heels  by  way  of 

emphasis. 

*10 


21 8  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

This  fragment  of  conversation  was  a  mine  which  I  worked 

o 

faithfully  during  our  Clydeward  drive,  manifesting  an  in- 
terest in  Mr.  Ed.  Dwight  which  quite  met  wiOi  the  appro- 
val of  Larkins,  and  which  he  was  very  ready  to  build  up 
and  gratify. 

I  remained  in  Clyde  that  night,  and  before  retiring  to 
rest  in  the  tiny  room  assigned  me  in  the  "hotel,"  I  made 
the  following  entry  in  my  note-book  : 

Ed.  Dwight,  sewing  machine  agent,  living  at  Amora,  is 
taller  than  the  medium,  but  slender,  and  of  light  weight, 
being  narrow  of  chest,  with  slim  and  slightly  bowed  legs, 
and  long  arms  that  are  continually  in  motion ;  large,  nervous 
hands;  small  head,  with  close-cropped  curly  black  hair; 
fine  regular  features,  that  would  be  handsome  but  for  the 
unhealthy,  sallow  complexion,  and  the  look  of  dissipation 
about  the  eyes ;  said  eyes  very  black,  restless  and  bold  of 
expression;  mouth  sensual,  and  shaded  by  a  small,  black 
mustache;  teeth,  white  and  rather  prominent. 

He  is  full  of  life  and  animation;  an  inveterate  joker,  his 
"  chaff"  being  his  principal  conversational  stock  in  trade. 
He  is  loud  of  speech,  somewhat  coarse  in  manner,  rakish  in 
dress,  and  possesses  wonderful  self-confidence.  He  is  con- 
sidered a  dangerous  fellow  among  the  country  girls,  and 
gets  credit  for  making  many  conquests.  Is  fickle  in  his 
fancies,  and,  like  the  sailor,  seems  to  have  a  sweetheart  in 
every  port. 


A  SEWING  MACHINE  AGENT.  219 

He  is  a  singer  of  comic  songs,  a  scraper  upon  the  violin, 
and  a  sonic  time  song  and  dance  man. 

Has  sold  sewing  machines  for  nearly  three  years  in 
Amora  and  vicinity,  and  is  now  preparing  to  return  to  the 
stage  and  to  go  South. 

Early  the  next  morning  I  bade  Larkins  a  friendly  fare- 
well, and  turned  my  face  toward  Trafton. 

Nothing  noteworthy  had  occurred  during  my  absence. 
Blake  and  Dimber  Joe  had  observed  Sunday  in  the  most 
decorous  fashion,  attending  divine  worship,  but  not  together, 
and  remained  in  and  about  the  hotel  all  the  rest  of  the  day 
and  evening,  treating  each  other  as  entire  strangers,  and, 
so  far  as  Games  could  discover,  never  once  exchanging  word 
or  glance. 

One  thing  Games  had  noted  as  peculiar :  Jim  Long  had 
haunted  the  hotel  all  day,  manifesting  a  lively  interest  in 
our  city  birds,  watching  them  furtively,  entering  into  con- 
versation with  one  or  the  other  as  opportunity  offered,  and 
contriving,  while  seeming  to  lounge  as  carelessly  as  usual, 
to  keep  within  sight  of  them  almost  constantly  during  the 
day  and  evening. 

Dr.  Barnard  was  still  in  a  critical  condition ;  Games  had 
not  seen  Bethel  since  Saturday. 

"And  what  elephant's  tracks  did  ye's  find  till  the  south 
av  us?"  queried  Games,  after  he  had  given  me  the  forego- 
ing information.  "Any  'nish'  lairs,  quiet  fences,  or  cosy 
jungles,  eh?" 


220  OUT  OP  A  LABYKINTH. 

Whereupon  I  gave  him  a  full  description  of  the  journey 
over  the  south  road,  reserving  only  the  portion  of  my 
yesterday's  experience  that  concerned,  for  the  present,  only 
Mr.  Ed.  Dvvight  and  myself. 

"So  there's  nothing  to  get  out  of  that,"  said  Carnes,  after 
listening  to  my  recital  with  a  serious  countenance.  "What 
do  you  think  now,  old  man  ?  If  they  don't  run  their 
booty  over  that  road,  where  the  mischief  (Jo  they  take  it?" 

"That  we  must  find  out,"  I  replied.  "  And  in  order  to 
do  that  we  must  investigate  in  a  new  direction." 

"How?" 

"Think  a  moment.  We  decided  at  the  first  that  these 
systematic  thieves  had,  must  have,  a  rendezvous  within  half 
a  night's  ride  from  Trafton." 

"  Yes ;  an'  I  stick  to  that  theory." 

"  So  do  I.  All  these  robberies  have  been  committed  at 
distances  never  more  than  twenty-five  miles  from  Trafton; 
often  less,  but  never  more" 

"Just  so." 

"Within  a  radius  of  twenty -five  miles  around  Trafton, 
east,  north,  and  west,  and  at  all  intermediate  points,  it  has 
not  been  safe  to  own  a  good  horse.  There  is  but  one  break 
in  this  unsafe  circle  and  that  is  to  the  south.  Now,  that 
south  road,  one  day,  or  two  days,  after  a  robbery,  would  be 
anything  but  safe  for  a  midnight  traveler,  who  rode  a  swift 
going  horse  or  drove  with  a  light  buggy  Carnes,  get  your 
map  and  study  out  my  new  theory  thereon." 


A.  SEWING-  MACHINE  AGENT.  221 

Carnes  produced  his  map  and  spread  it  out  upon  his 
knee,  and  I  followed  his  example  with  my  own. 

"  Now,  observe,"  I  began,  "  the  south  road  runs  straight 
and  .smooth  for  twenty  miles,  intersected  regularly  by  the 
mile  sections." 

"Yes." 

"Until  a  little  north  of  Clyde,  two  miles,  I  believe  they 
call  it,  a  more  curving  irregular  road  runs  southeast.  Now, 
follow  that  road." 

"I'm  after  it." 

"It  continues  southeast  for  nearly  ten  miles,  then  the 
road  forks." 

"  Yes." 

"  One  fork,  running  directly  south,  takes  you  straight  to 
some  coal  beds  at  Norristown — " 

"Aye,  aye!" 

"  The  other  runs  beyond  the  county  line  and  it  is  not  on 
our  maps  ;  it  takes  an  easterly  course  for  nearly  twenty 
miles,  terminating  at  the  river." 

"  Ah  !  I  began  to  see  !" 

"  From  Trafton  to  the  river,  then,  is  a  little  more  than 
forty  miles.  You  cross  the  river  and  are  in  another  State. 
Up  and  down  the  river,  for  many  miles,  you  have  heavy 
timber ;  not  far  inland  you  find  several  competing  rail- 
roads. Now,  my  belief  is,  that  after  the  excitement  fol- 
lowing these  robberies  has  had  time  to  die  out,  the  horses 
are  hurried  over  this  fifty  miles  of  country,  arid  across  th;; 


222  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

river,  and  kept  in  the  timber  until  it  is  quite  safe  to  ship 
them  to  a  distant  market." 

"  But  meantime,  before  they  are  taken  to  the  river,  where 
are  they  ambushed,  then?" 

"Under  our  very  noses;  here  in  Trafton!" 

Games  stared  at  me  in  consternation. 

"Old  man,"  he  said,  at  last, drawing  along,  deep  breath, 
"you  are  either  insane — or  inspired." 

"  I  believe  I  have  caught  an  inspiration.  But  time  will 
test  my  idea,  '  whether  it  be  from  the  gods  or  no.'  These 
outlaws  have  proven  themselves  cunning,  and  fertile  of 
brain.  AVho  would  think  of  overhauling  Trafton  for  these 
stolen  horses  ?  The  very  boldness  of  the  proceeding  in- 
sures its  safety." 

"  I  should  think  so.  And  how  do  you  propose  to  carry 
out  your  search?" 

"  We  must  begin  at  once,  trusting  to  our  wits  for  ways 
and  means.  In  some  way  we  must  see  or  know  the  con- 
tents of  every  barn,  stable,  granary,  store-house,  outbuild- 
ing, and  abandoned  dwelling,  in  and  about  Trafton.  No 
man's  property,  be  he  what  he  may,  must  be  held  exempt." 

"Do  you  think,  then,  that  the  stolen  horses,  the  last  haul 
of  course,  are  still  in  Trafton?" 

"It  is  not  quite  a  week  since  the  horses  were  taken ;  the 
'  nine  days'  wonder'  is  still  alive.  If  my  theory  is  correct, 
they  are  still  in  Trafton !" 


HAUNTED  BY  A  FACE.  223 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

HAUNTED  BY  A  FACE. 

It  was  the  day  of  Miss  Manvers'  garden  party,  and  a 
brighter  or  more  auspicious  one  could  not  have  dropped 
from  the  hand  of  the  Maker  of  days. 

Never  did  the  earth  seem  fairer,  and  seldom  did  the  sun 
shine  upon  a  lovelier  scene  than  that  presented  to  my  gaze 
as  I  turned  aside  from  the  dusty  highway,  and  paced  slowly 
up  the  avenue  leading  to  the  Hill  House. 

E.ven  now  the  picture  and  the  scenes  and  incidents  of  the 
day,  rise  before  my  mental  vision,  a  graceful,  sunlit,  yet 
fateful  panorama. 

I  sec  the  heiress,  as  she  glides  across  the  lawn  to  greet 
me,  her  brunette  cheeks  glowing,  her  lips  wreathed  in 
smiles.  She  wears  a  costume  that  is  a  marvel  of  diaphanous 
creamy  material,  lighted  up  here  and  there  with  dashes  of 
vivid  crimson.  Crimson  roses  adorn  the  loops  and  rippling 
waves  of  her  glossy  hair,  and  nestle  in  the  rich  lace  at  her 
throat,  And,  as  I  clasp  her  little  hand,  and  utter  the  com- 
monplaces of  greeting,  1  note  that  the  eye  is.  even  more 
brilliant  than  usual,  the  cheek  and  lip  tinged  with  the 
vivid  hue  left  by  excitement,  and,  underneath  the  gay 


224  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

badinage  and  vivacious  hospitality,  a  suppressed  some- 
thing:— anxiety  expectation,  displeasure,  disappointment; 
which,  I  can  not  guess.  I  only  see  that  something  has  ruffled 
my  fair  hostess,  and  given  to  her  thoughts,  even  on  this 
bright  day,  an  under  current  that  is  the  reverse  of  pleasant. 

The  grounds  are  beautiful  and  commodious,  tastefully 
arranged  and  decorated  for  the  occasion,  and  the  elite  of 
Trafton  is  there ;  all,  save  Louise  Barnard  and  Dr.  Bethel. 

"Have  you  heard  from  Dr.  Barnard  since  noon?"  queries 
my  hostess,  as  we  cross  the  lawn  to  join  a  group  gathered 
about  an  archery  target.  "  I  have  almost  regretted  giving 
this  party.  It  seems  unfeeling  to  be  enjoying  ourselves 
here,  and  poor  Louise  bowed  down  with  grief  and  anxiety 
beside  a  father  who  is,  perhaps,  dying. 

"Not  dying,  I  hope." 

"Oh,  we  all  shall  hope  until  hope  is  denied  us.  I  sup- 
pose his  chance  for  life  is  one  in  a  thousand.  I  am  so 
f  sorry,  and  we  shall  miss  Louise  and  Dr.  Bethel  so  much." 

"  Bethel  is  in  close  attendance?" 

"Yes,  Dr.  Barnard  has  all  confidence  in  him;  and 
then — you  know  the  nature  of  his  relation  with  the  family?" 

"His  relation;  that  of  family  physician,  I  suppose?" 

Miss  Manvers  draws  back  her  creamy  skirts  as  we  brush 
past  a  thorny  rose  tree. 

"  That  of  family  physician ;  yes,  and  prospective  son- 
in-law." 

"Ah!  I  suspected  an  attachment  there." 


HAUNTED  BY  A  FACE.  225 

"It  appears  they  have  been  privately  engaged  for  some 
time,  with  the  consent  of  the  Barnards,  of  course.  It  has 
only  just  been  publicly  announced ;  rather  it  will  be;  I 
had  it  from  Mrs.  Barnard  this  morning.  Dr.  Barnard  de- 
sires that  it  should  be  made  known.  He  believes  himself 
dying,  and  wishes  Trafton  to  know  that  he  sanctions  the 
marriage." 

Her  voice  has  an  undertone  of  constraint  which  accords 
with  her  manner,  and  I,  remembering  the  scene  of  a  week 
before,  comprehend  and  pity.  In  announcing  her  friend's 
betrothal  she  proclaims  the  death  of  her  own  hope. 

I  do  not  resume  the  subject,  and  soon  we  are  in  the  midst 
of  a  gay  group,  chattering  with  a  bevy  of  fair  girls,  and 
receiving  from  one  or  two  Trafton  gallants,  glances  of 
envious  disfavor,  which  I,  desiring  to  mortify  vanity,  at- 
tributed to  my  new  Summer  suit  rather  than  to  my  own 
personal  self. 

Arch  Brookhouse  is  the  next  arrival,  and  almost  the 
last.  He  comes  in  among  us  perfumed  and  smiling,  and 
is  received  with  marked  favor.  My  new  costume  has  now 
a  rival,  for  Arch  is  as  correct  a  gentleman  of  fashion  as 
ever  existed  outside  of  a  tailor's  window. 

He  is  in  wonderful  spirits,  too,  adding  zest  to  the  mer- 
riment of  the  gay  group  of  which  he  soon  becomes  the 
center. 

After  a  time  bows  and  quivers  come  more  prominently 
into  use.  Archery  is  having  its  first  season  in  Trafton. 

15 


226  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

Some  of  the  young  ladies  have  yet  to  be  initiated  into  the 
use  of  the  bow,  and  presently  I  find  myself  instructing  the 
pretty  sixteen-year-old  sister  of  my  friend,  Charlie  Harris. 

She  manages  her  bow  gracefully,  but  with  a  weak  hand; 
her  aim  is  far  from  accurate,  and  I  find  ample  occupation 
in  following  the  erratic  movements  of  her  arrows. 

Brookhouse  and  Miss  Manvers  are  both  experts  with 
the  bow.  They  send  a  few  arrows  flying  home  to  the  very 
center  of  the  target,  and  then  withdraw  from  the  sport,  and 
finally  saunter  away  together,  the  hand  of  the  lady  resting 
confidingly  upon  her  escort's  arm. 

"Arn't  they  a  pretty  couple?"  exclaims  my  little  pupil, 
twanging  her  bow-string  as  she  turns  to  look  after  them. 
"  I  do  wonder  if  they  are  engaged." 

"So  do  I,"  I  answer,  with  much  fervor. 

She  favors  me  with  a  quick  roguish  glance,  and  laughs 
blithely. 

"  I  don't  know,"  turning  back  to  her  momentarily  for- 
gotten pastime.  "  Mr.  Brookhouse  has  been  very  attentive, 
and  for  a  long  time  we  all  thought  him  the  favored  one, 
until  Dr.  Bethel  came,  and  since  you  appeared  in  Trafton. 
Ah!  I'm  afraid  Adele  is  a  bit  of  a  flirt." 

And  astute  Miss  sixteen  shoots  me  another  mischievous 
glance,  and  poises  her  arrow  with  all  the  nonchalance  of  a 
veteran. 

Again  I  glance  in.the  direction  taken  by  my  hostess  and 
her  cavalier,  but  they  have  disappeared  among  the  plen- 
tiful shrubbery. 


HAUNTED  BY  A   FACE.  227 

I  turn  back  to  my  roguish  little  pupil,  now  provokingly 
intent  upon  her  archery  practice. 

Once  more  the  arrow  is  fixed ;  she  takes  aim  with  much 
deliberation,  and  puts  forth  all  her  strength  to  the  bending 
of  the  bow.  Twang  !  whizz !  the  arrow  speeds  fast  and 
far — and  foul.  It  finds  lodgment  in  a  thicket  of  roses, 
that  go  clambering  over  a  graceful  trellis,  full  ten  feet  to 
the  right  of  the  target. 

There  is  a  shout  of  merriment.  Mademoiselle  throws 
down  the  bow  with  a  little  gesture  of  despair,  and  I  hasten 
toward  the  trellis  intent  upon  recapturing  the  missent 
arrow. 

As  I  am  about  to  thrust  my  hand  in  among  the  roses,  I 
am  startled  by  a  voice  from  the  opposite  side ;  startled  be- 
cause the  voice  is  that  of  my  hostess,  thrilling  with  intens- 
est  anger,  and  very  near  me. 

"  It  has  gone  far  enough  !  It  has  gone  too  far.  It  must 
stop  now,  or — " 

"  Or  you  will  make  a  confounded  fool  of  yourself." 

The  voice  is  that  of  Arch  Brookhouse,  disagreeably  con- 
temptuous, provokingly  calm. 

"No  matter.     What  will  it  make  of  you?" 

The  words  begin  wrathful  and  sibilant,  and  end  with  a 
hiss.  Can  that  be  the  voice  of  my  hostess? 

Making  a  pretense  of  search  I  press  my  face  closer  to 
the  trellis  and  peer  through. 

I  see  Adele  Manvers,  her  face  livid  with  passion,  her 


228  OUT  OF  A  LABYKINTH. 

eyes  ablaze,  her  lips  twitching  convulsively.  There  is  no 
undercurrent  of  feeling  now.  Rage,  defiance,  desperation, 
are  stamped  upon  her  every  feature. 

Opposite  her  stands  Arch  Brookhouse,  his  attitude  that 
of  careless  indifference,  an  insolent  smile  upon  his  coun- 
tenance. 

"  If  I  were  you,  I  would  drop  that  nonsense,"  he  says, 
coolly.  "  You  might  make  an  inning  with  this  new  city 
sprig,  perhaps.  He  looks  like  an  easy  fish  to  catch;  more 
money  than  brains,  I  should  say." 

"I  think  his  brains  will  compare  favorably  with  yours; 
he  is  nothing  to  me — " 

Brookhouse  suddenly  shifts  his  position. 

"Don't  you  see  the  arrow  ?"  calls  a  voice  behind  me,  and 
so  near  that  I  know  Miss  Harris  is  coming  to  assist  my 
search. 

I  catch  up  the  arrow  and  turn  to  meet  her. 

No  rustle  of  the  leaves  has  betrayed  my  presence ;  the 
sound  of  our  voices,  and  their  nearness,  is  drowned  by  the 
general  hilarity. 

We  return  to  our  archery,  and  the  two  behind  the  screen 
finish  their  strange  interview.  How,  lam  nnable  to  guess 
from  their  faces,  when,  after  a  time,  they  are  once  more 
among  us,  Brookhouse  as  unruffled  as  ever,  Miss  Manvers 
flushed,  nervous,  and  feverishly  gay. 

Throughout  the  remainder  of  the  fete,  the  face  of  my 
hostess  is  continually  before  me ;  not  as  her  guests  see  it, 


"  It  has  gone  far  enough!    It  has  gone  too  far.    It  must  stop 
now,  or — "  page  227. 

229 


HAUNTED  BY  A  PACE.  231 

fair,  smiling,  and  serene,  but  pallid,  passionate,  vengeful 
as  I  saw  it  from  behind  the  rose  thicket.  And  I  am 
haunted  by  the  thought  that  somewhere,  sometime,  I  have 
seen  just  such  a  face;  just  such  dusky,  gleaming,  angry  eyes; 
just  such  a  scornful,  quivering  mouth;  just  such  drawn 
and  desperate  features. 

Now  and  then  I  find  time  to  chuckle  over  the  words, 
uncomplimentary  in  intent,  but  quite  satisfactory  to  me — 
"  a  city  sprig  with  more  money  than  brains." 

So  this  is  the  ultimatum  of  Mr.  Brookhouse?  Some 
day,  perhaps,  he  may  cherish  another  opinion,  at  least  so 
far  as  the  money  is  concerned. 

Then,  while  the  gayety  goes  on,  I  think  of  Groveland 
and  its  mystery;  of  the  anonymous  warning,  the  album 
verse,  the  initials  A.  B.  Again  I  take  my  wild  John  Gil- 
pin  ride,  with  one  arm  limp  and  bleeding. 

"Ah,"  I  say  to  myself,  thinking  wrathfully  of  his  taunt- 
ing words  and  insolent  bearing,  which  my  hostess  had 
seemed  powerless  to  resent,  "  Ah,  my  gentleman,  if  I  should 
trace  that  unlucky  bullet  to  you,  then  shall  Miss  Manvers 
rejoice  at  your  downfall !" 

What  was  the  occasion  of  their  quarrel  ?  What  was  the 
meaning  of  their  strange  words  ? 

Again  and  again  I  ask  myself  the  question  as  I  go  home 
through  the  August  darkness,  having  first  seen  pretty  Net- 
tie Harris  safely  inside  her  father's  cottage  gate. 

But  I  find  no  satisfactory  answer  to  my  questions.     I 


232  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

might  have  dismissed  the  matter  from  my  thoughts  as  only 
a  lover's  quarrel,  save  for  the  last  words  uttered  by  Brook- 
house.  But  lovers  are  not  apt  to  advise  their  sweethearts 
to  "make  an  inning"  with  another  fellow.  If  jealousy 
existed,  it  was  assuredly  all  on  the  side  of  the  lady. 

Having  watched  them  narrowly  after  their  interview  be- 
hind the  rose  trellis,  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  was  not  a 
lover's  quarrel;  and  if  not  that,  what  was  it? 

I  give  up  the  riddle  at  last,  but  I  can  not  dismiss  the 
scene  from  my  mental  vision,  still  less  can  I  banish  the  re- 
membrance of  the  white,  angry  face,  and  the  tormenting 
fancy  that  I  have  not  seen  it  to-day  for  the  first  time. 

I  am  perplexed  and  annoyed. 

I  stop  at  the  office  desk  to  light  a  cigar  and  exchange  a 
word  with  "mine  host."  Dimber  Joe  is  writing  ostenta- 
tiously at  a  small  table,  and  Blake  Simpson  is  smoking  on 
the  piazza. 

The  sight  of  the  two  rogues,  so  inert  and  mysterious, 
gives  me  an  added  twinge  of  annoyance.  I  cut  short  my 
converse  with  the  landlord  and  go  up  to  my  room. 

Carnes  is  sitting  before  a  small  table,  upon  which  his 
two  elbows  are  planted;  his  fingers  are  twisted  in  his  thick 
hair,  and  his  head  is  bent  so  low  over  an  open  book  that 
his  nose  seems  quite  ready  to  plow  up  the  page. 

Coming  closer,  I  see  that  he  is  glowering  over  a  pictured 
face  in  his  treasured  "  rogues'  gallery." 

"If  you  want  to  study  Blake  Simpson's  cranium,"  I  say, 


HAUNTED  BY  A  FACE.  233 

testily,  "why  don't  you  take  the  living  subject?  He's 
down-stairs  at  this  moment." 

"I've  been  studying  the  original  till  my  head  got  dizzy," 
replies  Carries,  pushing  back  the  book  and  tilting  back  in 
his  chair.  "  The  fact  is,  the  fellow  conducts  himself  so 
confoundedly  like  a  decent  mortal,  that  I  have  to  appeal 
to  the  gallery  occasionally  to  convince  myself  that  it  is 
Blake  himself,  and  not  his  twin  brother." 

I  laugh  at  this  characteristic  whim,  and,  drawing  the 
book  toward  me,  carelessly  glance  from  page  to  page. 

Carries  prides  himself  upon  his  "gallery."  He  has  a 
large  and  motley  collection  of  rogues  of  all  denominations  : 
thieves,  murderers,  burglars,  counterfeiters,  swindlers,  fly 
crooks  of  every  sort,  and  of  both  sexes. 

"  They've  been  here  four  days  now,"  Carnes  goes  on, 
plaintively,  "and  nothing  has  happened  yet.  It's  enough 
to  make  a  man  lose  faith  in  'Bene  Coves.'  I  wonder — " 

"  Ah !"  The  exclamation  falls  sharply  from  my  lips,  the 
"gallery"  almost  falls  from  my  hands. 

Carnes  leaves  his  speech  unfinished  and  gazes  anxiously 
at  me,  while  I  sit  long  and  silently  studying  a  pictured 
face. 

By-and-by  I  close  the  book  and  replace  it  upon  the 
table. 

One  vexed  question  is  answered  ;  I  know  now  why  the 
white,  angry  face  of  Adele  Manvers  has  haunted  me  as  a 
shadow  from  the  past. 


234  OUT  OP  A  LABYRINTH. 

I  arise  and  pace  the  floor  restlessly;  like  Theseus,  I 
have  grasped  the  clue  that  shall  lead  me  from  the  maze. 

After  a  time,  Games  goes  out  to  inform  himself  as  to  the 
movements  of  Blake  and  Dimber  Joe. 

Midnight  comes,  but  no  Games. 

The  house  is  hushed  in  sleep.  I  lock  the  door,  ex- 
tinguish my  light,  and,  lowering  myself  noiselessly  from 
the  window  to  the  ground,  turn  my  steps  toward  the  scene 
of  the  afternoon  revel. 

In  the  darkness  and  silence  I  reach  my  destination,  and 
scaling  a  high  paling,  stand  once  more  in  the  grounds  of 
The  Hill. 


"All!"    The  exclamation   falls  sharply  from  my  lips,  the 
lery"  almost  falls  from  my  hands. — page  233. 

235 


SOME  BITS  OF  PERSONAL  HISTORY.  237 


CHAPTER  XX. 

SOME  BITS  OF  PERSONAL  HISTORY. 

While  Miss  Manvers  was  bidding  farewell  to  the  latest 
of  her  guests,  and  the  "  average  Traftonite"  was  making 
his  first  voyage  into  dreamland,  Dr.  Barnard  closed  his 
eyes  upon  Trafton  forever,  and  slept  that  long,  sound,  last, 
best  sleep  that  comes  once  to  all  of  us,  and  I,  as  well  as 
numerous  other  restless  sleepers,  was  awakened  in  the  early 
morning  by  the  sound  of  the  tolling  bell. 

It  was  sad  news  to  many,  for  Dr.  Barnard  was  an  old 
and  well-beloved  citizen. 

It  afforded  a  new  subject  for  gossip  to  many  more,  who 
now  learned  for  the  first  time  that  Louise  Barnard  was  af- 
fianced to  Dr.  Carl  Bethel,  and  that  Dr.  Barnard,  with 
almost  his  latest  breath,  had  proclaimed  his  entire  faith 
in  the  young  man's  honor,  by  formally  sanctioning  his  en- 
gagement with  Louise. 

I  had  not  seen  Bethel  since  my  return  from  the  city,  un- 
til we  met  that  day,  and  exchanged  a  few  words  across  the 
dinner  table. 

He  looked  worn  and  weary,  and  seemed  to  have  forgot- 
ten his  own  annoyances  and  interests  in  the  absorption  of 


238  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

his  regret  for  the  loss  of  his  old  friend  and  associate,  and 
sympathy  with  the  sorrow  of  his  beloved. 

I  had  spent  the  entire  morning  in  writing  a  long  letter 
to  my  Chief,  giving  a  detailed  account  of  my  acquaintance 
with  Miss  Manvers,  and  a  description  of  the  lady,  her  style 
of  living,  and,  above  all,  more  graphic  than  all,  my  expe- 
rience of  the  previous  day,  up  to  the  moment  when  I  closed 
the  "  rogues'  gallery"  and  opened  my  eyes  to  a  new  and 
startling  possibility. 

This  document  I  addressed  to  a  city  post-office  box,  and, 
having  sealed  it  carefully,  registered  and  dispatched  it 
through  the  Trafton  post-office. 

In  the  afternoon  I  received  an  express  package  from 
Baysville.  It  was  a  book,  so  the  agent  said.  Innocent 
enough,  no  doubt,  nevertheless  I  did  not  open  it  until  I 
had  closed  and  locked  my  door  upon  all  intruders. 

It  was  a  book.  A  cheap  volume  of  trashy  poems,  but 
the  middle  leaves  were  cut  away,  and  in  their  place  I  found 
a  bulky  letter. 

It  was  Earle's  report  from  Amora. 

It  was  very  statistical,  very  long,  and  dry  because  of  its 
minuteness  of  detail,  and  the  constant  recurrence  of  dates 
and  figures.  But  it  was  most  interesting  to  me. 

Arch  Brookhouse  and  his  brother,  Louis,  had  both  been 
students  at  Amora. 

Grace  Ballou  and  Nellie  Ewing  had  been  fellow-students 
with  them  one  year  ago.  Last  term,  however,  Arch  had 


SOME  BITS  OF  PERSONAL  HISTOKY.  239 

not  been  a  student,  but  Louis  Brookhouse,  Grace  Ballou, 
Xellie  Ewing,  Mamie  Rutger,  Amy  Holmes,  and  Johnny 
La  Porte,  had  all  been  in  attendance. 

For  the  last  three  named  this  was  their  first  term. 

Mamie  Rutger  had  been  expelled  for  misconduct,  during 
the  last  half  of  the  term. 

Johnny  La  Porte  and  Louis  Brookhouse  had  been  "  chums'' 
and  were,  accordingly,  pretty  wild. 

Very  little  could  be  learned  concerning  Amy  Holmes,  pre- 
vious toher  coming  to  Amora.  She  was  said  to  be  an  orphan, 
and  came  from  the  South.  Nothing  more  definite  could 
be  learned  concerning  her  abiding  place.  She  was  lively, 
dashing  and  stylish,  not  particularly  fond  of  study;  in  fact 
was  considered  one  of  the  "  loudest"  girls  in  the  school. 
Her  escapades  had  been  numerous  and  she  had,  on  more 
than  one  occasion,  narrowly  escaped  expulsion.  She  was 
particularly  intimate  with  Nellie  Ewing,  Mamie  Rutger, 
and  Grace  Ballon;  and  had  been  seen,  on  several  occasions, 
in  the  company  of  Arch  Brookhouse,  who  was  very  often 
at  Amora. 

Concerning  Ed.  Dwight,  Earle  could  say  very  little. 

D wight  had  left  town  with  his  team  early  on  Monday 
morning,  and  had  not  yet  returned.  Earle  had  managed, 
however,  to  obtain  lodgings  at  Dwight's  boarding-house, 
and  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  one  of  the  "girls,"  who 
had  contributed  the  information  that  Arch  Brookhouse  had 
several  times  dined  there  with  Dwight, 


240  OUT  OF  A  LABYEINTH. 

This  is  an  abbreviated  account  of  what  Earle's  report 
contained.  Accompanying  said  report  was  an  autograph 
obtained  from  Professor  Asa  Bartlett,  and  it  bore  not  the 
slightest  resemblance  to  the  printed  album  lines. 

Considering  the  time  consumed  in  the  investigation,  Earle 
had  done  remarkably  well.  He  had  done  well,  too,  in  go- 
ing to  Baysville  to  send  the  letter. 

How  many  threads  were  now  in  my  hands,  and  yet  how 
powerless  I  was  for  the  time! 

Only  yesterday  I  had  made,  or  so  I  believed,  two  most 
important  discoveries,  and  yet  I  could  turn  them  to  no  ac- 
count for  the  present. 

Upon  the  first,  it  would  be  unwise  to  act  until  further 
information  had  been  forwarded  me  by  my  Chief. 

As  for  the  second,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  watch. 
I  could  not  take  the  initiative  step.  Action  depended  solely 
upon  others,  and  as  to  the  identity  of  these  others  I  scarce 
could  give  a  guess. 

Louis  Brookhouse  had  not  been  seen  outside  his  home 
since  his  arrival,  in  a  crippled  condition,  the  day  after  Grace 
Ballou's  escapade.  I  must  see  Louis  Brookhouse.  I  must 
know  the  nature  of  that  "injury"  which  Dr.  Bethel  had 
been  called  upon  to  attend. 

For  the  first,  I  must  bide  my  time  until  the  youth  was 
sufficiently  recovered  to  appear  in  public.  For  the  second, 
I  must  rely  on  Bethel,  and,  until  the  last  sorrowful  tribute 
of  respect  and  affection  had  been  paid  the  dead,  I  could, 
scarcely  hope  for  an  interview  with  him. 


SOME  BITS  OF  PERSONAL  HISTORY.  241 

A  crisis  must  come  soon,  but  it  was  not  in  our  power  to 
hasten  it. 

So  long  as  Dimber  Joe  and  Blake  Simpson  continued 
inert  and  seemingly  aimless,  so  long  as  the  days  brought 
no  new  event  and  the  nights  brought  neither  discovery  on 
our  part  nor  movement  on  the  part  of  the  horse-thieves, 
Games  and  I  had  only  to  wait  and  watch — watch — watch. 

Our  days,  to  the  onlooker,  must  have  seemed  only  idle 
indeed,  but  still  they  were  busy  days. 

Carnes  roamed  about  the  town,  inspecting  the  barns  and 
buildings  closely,  when  he  could  venture  a  near  approach 
without  arousing  suspicion  or  objection ;  at  a  distance,  when 
intrusion  would  be  unsafe  or  unwelcome. 

Dr.  Barnard  was  buried  on  Thursday,  and  on  the  after- 
noon of  that  day,  as  I  was  returning  from  the  funeral  in 
fact,  I  received  a  report  from  Wyman. 

Stripped  of  its  details,  and  reduced  to  bare  facts,  it 
amounted  to  this: 

The  "dummy"  had  proven  of  actual  service.  Wyman 
had  found  him  with  very  little  trouble,  and  in  just  the 
right  place.  He  was  domiciled  with  the  La  Porte  family, 
and  had  been  since  the  first  week  of  his  advent  among  the 
Grovelanders,  and  Wyman  was  indebted  to  him  for  much 
of  the  information  contained  in  his  report. 

Acting  according  to  our  instructions,  or,  rather,  as  we 
had  expected  and  desired,  overacting  them,  the  "dummy" 

had  soon  contrived  to  let  the  Grovelanders  know  that  he 
16     *11 


242  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

was  a  detective,  sent  out  from  the  city  to  occupy  the  prem- 
ises and  keep  his  eyes  open.  He  talked  freely  of  the  miss- 
ing girls,  always  frankly  avowing  that  it  was  his  opinion, 
as  well  as  the  opinion  of  his  superiors,  that  the  two  girls 
had  been  murdered.  Indeed,  he  darkly  hinted  that  certain 
facts  corroborative  of  this  theory  had  been  discovered,  and 
then  he  lapsed  into  vagueness  and  silence.  AVhen  ques- 
tioned as  to  his  system  or  intentions  regarding  the  investi- 
gation he  became  profoundly  mysterious,  oracular,  and  un- 
satisfactory. 

The  result  was  all  that  we  could  have  wished.  The  less 
intelligent  among  his  critics  looked  upon  him  as  a  fountain 
of  wisdom  and  cunning  and  skill.  The  more  acute  and  ob- 
servant fathomed  his  shallowncss,  but  immediately  set  it 
down  as  a  bit  of  clever  acting,  and,  joining  with  their  less 
penetrating  neighbors,  voted  our  "dummy"  "  wise  as  a  ser- 
pent" underneath  his  "harmless  as  a  dove"  exterior,  :u:d 
looked  confidently  forward  to  something  startling  when 
he  should  finally  arouse  to  action. 

To  which  class  of  critics  Johnny  La  Porte  belonged, 
Wyman  had  been  unable  to  discover,  for  during  his  stay 
in  Groveland  he  had  not  seen  young  La  Porte. 

Whatever  his  opinion  may  have  been,  the  young  man  had 
been  among  the  first  to  seek  our  "dnmmy's"  acquaintance, 
which  he  had  cultivated  so  persistently  that  within  less  than 
a  fortnight  the  two  had  become  most  friendly,  and  appar- 
ently appreciative  of  each  other's  society,  and  the  "dummy" 


SOME  BITS  OF  PERSONAL  HISTORY.  243 

had  found  an  abiding  place  underneath  the  hospitable  roof 
of  La  Porte  pere. 

Johnny  La  Porte  was  a  spoiled  son.  He  seemed  to  have 
had  his  own  way  always,  and  it  had  not  been  a  way  to 
wisdom.  He  was  not  dissipated ;  had  none  of  the  larger 
and  more  masculine  vices,  but  he  was  idle,  a  shirk  at  school 
and  at  home.  He  had  no  business  tact,  and  seemed  as  little 
inclined  to  make  of  himself  a  decent  farmer  as  he  was  inca- 
pable of  becoming  a  good  financier,  merchant,  or  mechanic. 

He  was  short  of  stature,  and  girlishly  pretty,  having  small 
oval  features,  languid  black  eyes,  black  curly  hair,  and  a 
rich  complexion  of  olive  and  red. 

He  drove  a  fine  span  of  blacks  before  a  jaunty  light  car- 
riage, and  was  seldom  seen  with  his  turnout  except  when 
accompanied  by  some  one  of  the  many  pretty  girls  about 
Groveland. 

In  fact,  he  was  that  most  obnoxious  creature,  a  male  flirt. 
He  had  roved  from  one  bright  Groveland  flower  to 
another,  ever  since  his  graduation  from  jackets  to  tail  coats. 
During  the  previous  Autumn  and  Winter,  he  had  been  very 
devoted  to  Nell  ie  E  wing ;  but,  since  their  return  from  school, 
in  the  Spring,  his  attentions  had  not  been  quite  so  marked, 
although  Xellie  had  several  times  been  seen  behind  the 
blacks  and  in  company  with  the  fickle  Johnny. 

In  short,  after  reading  all  that  Wyman  could  say  of  him, 
I  summed  Johnny  La  Porte  up,  and  catalogued  him  as 
follows : 


244  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

Vain,  weak,  idle,  handsome,  fickle,  selfish,  good-natured 
when  not  interfered  with,  over  fond  of  pleasure,  easily  in- 
fluenced, and  a  spendthrift. 

What  might  or  might  not  be  expected  of  such  a  character? 

He  was,  as  Mrs.  Ballon  had  said,  popular  among  the 
young  people,  especially  the  young  ladies;  and  where  do 
you  find  a  young  man  that  drives  a  fine  turnout,  carries  a 
well-filled  purse,  dances  a  little,  sings  a  fair  tenor  and  plays 
his  own  accompaniment,  is  handsome,  and  always  ready 
for  a  frolic,  who  is  not  popular  with  the  ladies? 

Wyman  had  not  seen  La  Porte,  and  for  this  reason : 

On  the  evening  of  the  17th,  young  La  Porte  had  driven 
away  from  home  with  his  black  horses,  telling  our  "dummy," 
in  confidence,  that  he  was  "  going  to  take  a  pretty  girl  out 
riding." 

La  Porte  and  the  "dummy"  "roomed  together,"  in  true 
country  fashion;  and,  at  midnight,  or  later,  the  "dummy" 
could  not  be  precise  as  to  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  he  re- 
turned. Entering  the  room  with  evident  caution,  he  never- 
theless awoke  the  "dummy,"  who,  turning  lazily  on  his 
pillow,  saw  La  Porte  taking  from  a  drawer  something 
white,  which  our  "dummy"  supposed  to  be  a  handful  of 
handkerchiefs,  and  from  a  shelf  a  bottle  of  brandy. 

On  seeing  the  open  eyes  of  our  "dummy,"  La  Porte  had 
explained  as  follows: 

One  of  his  horses  went  lame  a  bit,  and  he  intended  to 
give  him  a  little  treatment.  The  "dummy"  must  not  dis- 


"  Entering  the  room  with  evident  caution,  he  nevertheless  awoke 
the  "dummy,"  who,  turning  lazily  on  his  pillow,  saw  La  Porte 
taking  from  a  drawer  something  white," — page  244. 

245 


SOME  BITS  OP  PERSONAL  HISTORY.  247 

turb  himself,  as  the  hired  man  was  on  hand  to  render  all 
the  necessary  help. 

Then,  as  he  was  leaving  the  room,  La  Porte  had  added : 

"By  the  by,  if  the  horse  comes  out  all  right,  and  I  am 
gone  when  you  turn  out  in  the  morning,  tell  the  old  man 
that  I  am  off  for  Bays vi lie  to  see  about  the  club  excursion." 

Wondering  vaguely  what  species  of  lameness  it  was  that 
must  be  treated  with  brandy  and  bandaged  with  linen 
handkerchiefs,  the  "dummy"  fell  asleep,  and  finding  the 
young  man  absent  on  the  following  morning,  delivered  his 
message  as  directed. 

It  was  received  without  comment,  as  such  excursions 
were  of  frequent  occurrence,  and  as  no  one  presumed  to 
question  the  movements  of  the  spoiled  young  pleasure 
seeker. 

He  did  not  return  on  the  next  day,  but  the  morning  of 
the  19th  brought  him  home,  not,  however,  as  he  went,  but 
in  company  with  a  sewing-machine  agent  whom  he  called 
Ed.,  and  whose  full  name  was  Edward  S.  Dwight. 

La  Porte  stated  that  his  horse  was  lame  again,  and  that 
he  had  left  his  team  at  Amora,  and  returned  with  Dwight 
in  the  machine  wagon. 

During  that  day  La  Porte  accompanied  Dwight  on  his 
rounds  among  the  farmers,  and  early  the  following  morn- 
ing the  two  returned  together  to  Amora. 

That  was  a  week  ago.  The  following  Sunday,  La  Porte 
and  Dwight  had  again  visited  Groveland,  this  time  with 


248  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

La  Forte's  own  turnout.  During  the  day  they  had  made 
several  calls  upon  young  ladies,  and  this  time  our  "dummy," 
being  cordially  invited,  accompanied  them  on  their  rounds. 

On  Monday  morning,  as  before,  they  returned  to  Amora. 
and  since  then  had  not  reappeared  in  Groveland. 

Wyman,  according  to  instructions,  had  visited  Mrs. 
Ballou.  She  had  nothing  new  to  communicate,  but  she 
gave  into  his  hands  a  small  package,  which  Wyman  had 
inclosed  with  his  report. 

It  contained  three  photographs ;  one  of  Miss  Amy 
Holmes,  one  of  Johnny  La  Porte,  and  a  third  of  the  same 
gentleman  and  Mr.  Ed.  Dvvight,  a  rather  rakish-looking 
duo. 

I  read  and  re-read  AVyman's  long,  complete  descriptive 
report.  I  studied  the  photographed  faces  again  and  again, 
and  that  evening,  before  the  sunset  had  fairly  faded  from 
the  west,  I  told  Games  the  whole  story,  and  placed  before 
him  the  printed  letter  and  the  autographs,  photographs  and 
reports. 


"  EVOLVING   A  THEORY." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

"EVOLVING  A  THEORY." 

"  And  you  want  me  to  go  to  New  Orleans?"  says  Carnes, 
as  he  rises  slowly,  and  stretches  himself  urj  to  his  fullest 
height,  following  up  his  words  with  an  immense  yawn. 
"What  for,  now?" 

He  has  listened  so  attentively,  so  silently,  with  such 
moveless,  intelligent  eagerness,  that  I  forgive  him  the  yawn, 
and  treat  myself  to  a  long  breath  of  restfulness  and  relief, 
at  being  at  last  unburdened  of  this  great  secret,  and  he 
crosses  the  room  and  drops  into  his  favorite  attitude  beside 
the  window  that  overlooks  the  fast  darkening  street. 

"I  hardly  know  just  what  I  expect  you  to  unearth  in 
New  Orleans,"  I  answer,  after  a  pause  of  some  moments. 
"But  I  have  a  notion  that  the  links  we  have  failed  to  find 
here  may  be  in  hiding  down  there." 

Carnes  plunges  his  hands  deep  down  into  his  pockets.  I 
know,  from  the  intentness  of  his  face,  and  the  unwinking 
fixedness  of  the  eyes  that  stare  yet  see  nothing  beyond  the 
panorama  conjured  by  his  own  imagination,  that  he  is 
studying  diligently  at  the  Groveland  problem;  and  I  sit 
silently,  waiting  his  first  movement,  that  I  feel  sure  will 


250  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

be  speedily  followed  by  something  in  the  way  of  an  opinion. 

"It's  a  queer  muddle,"  he  says  at  last,  coming  back  to 
his  chair  and  dropping  into  his  former  attitude  of  interested 
attention.  "  It's  a  queer  muddle  ;  and,  it  seems  to  me,  you 
have  got  hold  of  the  wrong  end  of  the  business." 

"  How  the  wrong  end  ?" 

"  Why,  you  have  your  supposed  principals  and  acces- 
sories, and,  perhaps,  the  outline  of  a  plot ;  but  where  is 
your  motive?" 

"Where,  indeed  !  I  have  not  even  found  a  theory  that 
suits  me,  although  I  have  pondered  over  various  supposi- 
tions. You  are  good  at  this  sort  of  analysis,  Carnes.  Can't 
you  help  me  to  some  sort  of  a  theory  that  won't  break  of  its 
own  weight?" 

Carnes  bit  his  under  lip  and  pondered. 

"How  far  have  you  got?"  he  asked,  presently. 

"I  will  tell -you  how  I  have  reasoned  thus  far.  Ex- 
perience and  statistics  have  proved  that,  of  all  the  missing 
people,  male  and  female,  whose  dead  bodies  are  never  found, 
or  whose  deaths  are  never  satisfactorily  proven,  more  than 
three-fourths  have  eventually  turned  up  alive,  or  it  is  found 
they  have  lived  many  years  after  they  were  numbered  among 
the  missing.  In  the  majority  of  cases,  pay  four  to  one, 
where  missing  persons,  supposed  to  have  been  dead,  are 
proved  to  be  alive,  it  is  also  proved  that  they  have  '  disap- 
peared' of  their  own  free  will.  In  the  list  of  missing  young 
girls,  the  police  records  show  that  two-thirds  of  those  sup- 


"EVOLVING  A  THEORY."  251 

posed  to  have  been  murdered  or  abducted,  have  eloped  or 
forsaken  their  friends  of  their  own  free  will.  Let  us  keep 
in  mind  these  statistics  and  begin  with  Nellie  Ewing.  Was 
she  murdered?  Was  she  forcibly  abducted?  Did  she  run 
away?" 

"  Umpli !  If  she  were  a  man  I  might  venture  an  opinion," 
broke  in  Carnes. 

"Let  .us  see.  She  left  her  house  at  sunset,  riding  a 
brown  pony,  and  intent,  or  seeming  so,  upon  visiting  her 
friend,  Grace  Ballou." 

"Grace  Ballon — oh  !"  Carnes  lifts  his  head,  then  drops 
it  again,  quickly. 

I  note  the  gesture  and  the  ejaculation,  and  smile  as  I 
proceed. 

"  She  had  announced  her  intention  of  spending  the  night 
with  her  friend  Grace,  but  instead  of  so  doing,  she  is  sud- 
denly afflicted  with  a  headache,  and,  at  dusk,  or  perhaps 
even  later,  she  sets  out,  on  her  brown  pony,  for  home,  a 
distance  of  about  four  miles." 

"Um — ah!"  from  Carnes. 

"She  is  not  seen  after  that.  Neither  is  the  brown  pony. 
Was  she  murdered?  If  so,  no  trace  of  her  body,  no  clue 
to  her  murderer,  no  motive  for  the  deed,  has  been  discovered. 
And  the  horse ;  if  she  was  murdered,  was  the  horse 
slaughtered  also?  And  were  they  both  buried  in  one 
grave?  She  was  riding  alone,  after  nightfall,  over  a 
country  road.  She  might  have  been  assailed  by  tramps  or 


252  OUT  OP  A  LABYRINTH. 

stragglers  of  some  sort,  but  the  first  investigation  proved 
that  nothing  in  the  form  of  tramp,  or  stranger  of  any  sort, 
had  been  seen  about  Groveland,  neither  on  that  day  nor  for 
many  days  previous.  And  again,  a  tramp  who  might  have 
killed  her  to  secure  the  horse,  would  hardly  have  tarried 
to  conceal  the  body  so  effectually  that  the  most  thorough 
search  could  not  bring  it  to  light.  Nor  would  he  have 
carried  it  with  him  beyond  the  reach  of  search.  Was  she 
murdered  for  revenge,  or  from  motives  of  jealousy  ?  Then, 
in  all  probability,  the  brown  horse  would  have  been  found 
wandering  somewhere  at  large." 

"  It  won't  do,"  mutters  Carnes,  half  to  himself,  and  with 
a  slow  wag  of  the  head ;  "  it  won't  do." 

"  That's  what  I  said  to  myself,  after  reviewing  the  pros 
and  cons  of  the '  murder  theory.'  Now,  was  Nellie  Ewing 
abducted?  She  may  have  been,  but,  again,  there's  the 
missing  horse.  If  a  tramp  or  a  horse-thief  would  take  the 
horse,  and  leave  the  girl,  a  desperate  lover  would  just  as 
surely  take  the  girl  and  leave  the  horse.  Again,  an  avari- 
cious lover  migh^  with  some  difficulty,  secure  both  horse 
and  rider,  but  he  could  hardly  travel  far  with  an  unwill- 
ing girl  and  a  stolen  horse,  without  becoming  uncomfort- 
ably conspicuous.  Did  the  young  lady  elope?  If  so,  then 
it  is  my  belief  that  she  and  her  horse  parted  company  very 
soon  after  she  left  the  widow  Ballou's.  And  here  ends  my 
theorizing.  How,  and  why,  and  whither,  the  horse  was 
spirited  away,  I  can  not  guess." 


"  EVOLVING  A  THEORY."  253 

"  If  the  thing  had  occurred  in  Traftou,"  says  Carnes, 
thoughtfully,  "  one  might  account  for  the  horse." 

"True  •  but  as  itdid  notoccur  within  the  limit  of  theTraf- 
ton  operations,  I  naturally  concluded  that,  if  the  young  lady 
really  did  abscond,  her  lover  must  have  had  a  confederate 
who  took  charge  of  the  horse.  But,  at  first,  this  seemed  to 
me  improbable." 

"  Why  improbable  ?" 

"  Because  I  did  not  view  the  matter,  as  you  do  now,  in 
the  light  of  after  discoveries  and  developments." 

"  Then  you  think  now  that  Miss  Ewing  eloped?" 

"  I  think  she  was  not  murdered  ;  and  the  elopement 
theory  is  much  more  plausible,  more  reasonable,  all  things 
considered,  than  that  of  abduction.  First  of  all,  there  are 
the  movements  of  the  girl  herself.  Supposing  her  quar- 
tered for  the  night  with  her  friend  Grace,  'Squire  Ewing 
felt  no  uneasiness  at  her  absence,  even  when  it  was  pro- 
longed into  the  second  day.  Might  she  not  have  consid- 
ered all  this  when  she  planned  her  flight  ?  When  she  was 
actually  missed,  she  had  two  days  the  start  of  her  inquiring 
friends." 

"  True." 

"Then,  not  long  after,  Mamie  Rutger,  a  friend  and  school- 
mate ol  the  missing  Nellie,  also  disappears.  While  it  is 
yet  daylight,  or  at  least  hardly  dark,  she  vanishes  from  her 
father's  very  door-step,  and  is  seen  no  more.  Now,  let  me  cal  1 
your  attention  to  some  facts.  Farmer  Rutger's  house  stnrds 


254  OUT  OF  A  LABYKIXTH, 

on  a  bit  of  rising  ground ;  the  road  runs  east  and  west. 
To  the  east  of  the  house  is  a  thick  grove  of  young  trees 
planted  as  a  wind-break  for  the  cattle.  This  belt  of  trees 
begins  at  the  front  of  the  house  and  extends  northward,  the 

o  ' 

house  being  on  the  north  side  of  the  highway,  past  the 
barns,  cow  stables,  and  sheep  pens.  So  while  a  person  in 
the  front  portion  of  the  house,  on  the  porch  or  in  the  door- 
yard,  can  obtain  a  clear  view  of  the  road  to  the  west,  those 
farther  back,  in  the  kitchen,  the  stables,  or  the  milking 
sheds,  are  shut  off  from  a  view  of  the  road  by  the  wind- 
break on  the  one  hand,  by  a  high  orchard  hedge  on  the 
other,  and  by  the  house  and  thick  door-yard  shrubbery  in 
front.  For  over  an  hour,  on  the  night  of  her  disappear- 
ance, Mamie  Rutger  was  the  only  person  within  view  of 
this  highway.  The  hired  girl  was  in  the  kitchen  washing 
up  the  supper  things.  Mrs.  Rutger,  who,  by-the-by,  is 
Miss  Mamie's  step-mother,  was  skimming  milk  in  the 
cellar,  and  Mr.  Rutger,  with  the  two  hired  men,  were  water- 
ing and  feeding  the  stock  and  milking  the  cows.  When 
the  work  for  the  night  was  done  and  the  lamps  were  lighted, 
if  they  thought  of  Mamie  at  all  it  was  as  sitting  alone  on  the 
front  piazza,  or  perched  in  her  chamber  window  up-stairs, 
enjoying  the  quiet  of  the  evening.  It  was  only  when  their 
early  bed-time  came  that  the  girl's  absence,  and  more  than 
that,  her  unusual  silence,  was  noted,  and  that  a  search 
proved  her  missing.  Was  she  murdered  ?  That  theory  in 
this  case  is  so  unreasonable  that  1  discard  it  at  once." 
Games  nodded  his  head  approvingly. 


"EVOLVING  A  THEORY."  255 

"  Was  she  abducted  ?  Possibly ;  but  to  my  mind,  it  is 
not  probable.  Mamie  Rutger  was  a  gypsy ish  lassie,  pretty 
as  a  May  blossom,  skittish  as  a  colt,  hard  to-  govern  and 
prone  to  adventurous  escapades.  Her  father  was  kind 
and  her  step-mother  meant  to  be  so,  but  the  latter  per- 
petually frowned  down  the  girl's  innocent  hilarity,  and 
curbed  her  gayety,  when  she  could,  with  a  stern  hand. 
They  sent  her  to  school  to  tame  her,  and  the  faculty,  after 
bearing  with  her,  and  forgiving  her  many  mischievous 
pranks  because  of  her  youth,  at  last  sent  her  home  in  dis- 
grace, expelled.  If  this  girl,  wearied  of  a  humdrum  farm- 
house existence  and  thirsting  for  a  broader  glimpse  of  the 
gay  outer  world,  had  planned  an  elopement  or  run-away 
escapade,  she  could  have  chosen  no  better  time.  While  all 
the  others  are  busy  at  their  evening  task,  she,  from  the 
front,  watches  for  a  swift  horse  and  a  covered  buggy,  which 
comes  from  the  west.  Sure  that  no  eyes  are  looking,  she 
awaits  it  at  the  gate,  springs  in,  with  a  backward  glance, 
and  when  she  is  missed,  is  miles  away." 

"Yes,  I  see,"  comments  Carnes,  dryly;  "it's  a  pity 
your  second  sight  couldn't  keep  'em  in  view  till  ye  see 
where  they  land." 

I  curb  my  imagination.  That  useful  quality  is  deficient 
in  the  cranium  of  my  comrade;  he  can  neither  follow  nor 
sympathize. 

"  Well,  here  is  the  condensed  truth  for  you,"  I  reply, 
amiably;  "for  this  much  we  have  ocular  and  oral  testi- 


256  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

mony:  Four  young  ladies  attend  school  at  Amora;  all  are 
pretty,  under  the  age  of  discretion,  and,  with  perhaps  one 
exception,  little  versed  in  the  ways  of  the  world  and  its 
wickedness.  During  their  sojourn  at  school,  where  they 
are  not  under  constant  discipline  o\ving  to  the  fact  that 
they  all  board  outside  of  the  Seminary,  and  all  together, 
they  are  much  in  the  society  of  four  young  men,  two  of 
whom  are  students  of  the  Seminary.  This  quartette  of 
youths  are  more  or  less  good  looking,  and  all  of  them 
notably  'gay  and  festive,'  after  the  manner  of  the  stereo- 
typed young  man  of  the  period." 

"  Right  you  are  now,"  ejaculated  Carnes. 

"Just  how  these  gentlemen  divided  their  affections  or 
attentions,"  I  continue,  "it  is  difficult  to  say,  in  regard  to 
all.  We  know  that  Mr.  Johnny  La  Porte  was  the  chosen 
cavalier  of  Miss  Ewing,  and  that  Arch  Brookhouse  and 
Amy  Holmes  were  frequently  seen  in  each  other's  society. 
We  are  told  that  the  eight  young  people  formed  frequent 
pleasure  parties;  riding,  picnicking,  passing  social  evenings 
together. 

"They  leave  school ;  their  jolly  companionship  is  over. 
By-and-by,  Nellie  Ewing  disappears;  a  little  later, 
Mamie  Rutger  is  also  missing;  after  a  little  time  the  other 
two  young  ladies  are  caught  in  the  act  of  escaping  from 
home,  by  the  means  of  a  ladder  placed  at  their  chamber 
window  by  an  unknown  man,  while  a  second,  it  is  sup- 
posed, awaits  their  coming  with  horses  and  vehicle.  This 


"  EVOLVING  A  THEORY."  257 

much  for  the  ladies  of  this  octette.  Now,  upon  inquiring 
after  the  whereabouts  of  the  gentlemen,  we  find  that  upon 
the  night  of  this  last  named  escapade,  Johnny  La  Porte, 
with  his  buggy  and  horses,  was  absent  from  home  from 
sunset  until  after  midnight.  That  he  returned  when  all  the 
household  was  asleep,  and  securing  some  clean  handker- 
chiefs and  a  flask  of  brandy,  ostensibly  to  doctor  a  sick 
horse,  he  again  goes,  and  returns  after  an  absence  of  two 
days,  accompanied  by  another  member  of  the  octette,  Mr, 
Ed.  Dwight," 

"That's  a  point,"  assented  Games. 

"  Xow,  we  have  previously  learned,"  I  resume,  "that  said 
Dwight  is  about  to  aband'on  his  old  trade  and  quit  the 
country.  We  also  remember  that  Mrs.  Ballou  shot  at,  and 
believes  she  hit,  the  man  who  was  assisting  her  daughter 
and  guest  to  escape  from  the  house.  Very  good.  During 
the  time  that  Johnny  La  Porte  is  absent  from  his  home, 
Mr.  Louis  Brookhouse  is  brought  home  to  Trafton,  in  a 
covered  buggy,  by  some  unknown  friend,  with  a  crippled 
limb!" 

"I  see;  that's  a  clincher,"  muttered  Games, 

"This  much  for  three  of  the  gay  Lotharios,"  I  con- 
tinue. "Now  for  Arch  Brookhouse.  In  Grace  Ballou's 
autograph  album  is  a  couplet,  very  neatly  printed  and 
signed  A.  B.  It  bears  date  one  year  back,  and  one  year 
ago  Grace  Ballou  and  Arch  Brookhouse  were  both  students 

at  Amora.     Notion^  since  I  received  an  interesting  letter 

17 


258  OUT  OF  A  LABYRIXTH. 

of  warning,  and  I  believe  it  was  written  by  the  same  hand 
that  indited  the  lines  beginning  'I  drink  to  the  eyes  of 
my  schoolmate,  Grace.' ': 

Games  opened   his  lips,  but  I  hurried  on. 

"I  have  noted  one  other  thing,  which,  if  you  like, 
you  may  call  coincidence  of  latitude.  The  eldest  of  the 
Brookhouse  brothers  is  a  resident  of  New  Orleans.  At 
about  the  time  of  Nellie  Ewing's  disappearance,  Louis 
Brookhouse  went  to  New  Orleans,  returning  less  than  two 
weeks  ago.  Amy  Holmes  is  vaguely  described  as  being 
'somewhere  South/ and  Ed.  Dwight  meditates  a  Southern 
journey  soon." 

"It  looks  like  a  league,"  says  Games,  scratching  his 
head,  and  wrinkling  his  brows  in  perplexity.  "Are  they 
going  to  form  a  colony  of  some  new  sort?  What's  your 
notion  ?" 

"My  notion  is  that  we  had  better  not  waste  our  time 
trying  to  guess  out  a  motive.  Consider  the  language  of 
the  telegram  sent  by  Fred  Brookhouse  to  his  brother,  and 
the  reply  to  it,  and  then  reflect  upon  the  possible  meaning 
of  both.  The  New  Orleans  brother  says  : 

Hurry  up  the  others,  or  we  are  likely  to  have  a  balk. 

Arch  answers: 
Next  week  L —  will  be  on  hand. 
"  Hurry  up  the  others  !     What  others  ?     Why  are  they 


"EVOLVING  A  THEORY."  259 

likely  to  have  a  ( balk  ?'  Are  the  two  missing  girls  there, 
in  charge  of  Fred  Brookhouse,  and  are  they  becoming  res- 
tive at  the  non-appearance  of  the  others?  If  they  had  suc- 
ceeded in  escaping,  would  Grace  Ballou  and  Amy  Holmes 
have  gone  to  New  Orleans  in  company  with  Louis  Brook- 
house  ?" 

"By  Saint  Patrick,  I  begin  to  see  !"  cried  Carnes. 

"  The  telegram  sent  by  Arch,"  I  resume,  "  implies  that 
Louis  was  already  here,  or  near  here.  Yet  he  made  his 
first  appearance  at  his  father's  house  two  days  later.  Is 
Ed.  Dwight  going  to  New  Orleans  to  embrace  the  '  heel 
and  toe  business, 'under  the  patronage  of  Fred  Brookhouse, 
who,  it  is  said,  is  connected  with  a  theater  ?  Is  Johnny 
La  Porte  in  hiding  at  Amora?  or  has  he  already  'gone  to 
join  the  circus?'" 

Carnes  springs  suddenly  to  his  feet. 

"By  the  powers,  old  man,  I  see  how  it  looks  to  you;"  he 
cries,  "an'  ye've  got  the  thing  by  the  right  end  at  last.  I'll 
go  to  New  Orleans ;  only  say  when.  But,"  here  his  face 
lengthens  a  little,  "ye  must  get  Wyman,  or  some  one  else, 
here  in  my  place.  I  wish  we  had  got  that  horse  rendez- 
vous hunted  down." 

"As  to  that,"  I  respond,  "give  yourself  no  uneasiness; 
"I  believe  that  I  have  found  the  right  place,  and  to-night 
I  mean  to  confirm  my  suspicion." 

Carnes  stares  astonished. 

"How  did  you  manage  it?"  he  asks,  "and  when?" 


260  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"  Two  days  ago,  and  by  accident.  You  will  be  surprised, 
Carnes.  It  is  a  barn." 

"It  is?" 

"  A  lead-colored  barn,  finished  in  brown." 

"What?" 

"It  is  large,  and  nearly  square/'  I  hasten  to  say,  enjoy- 
ing his  marked  amazement.  "A  large  stack  of  hay  is 
pitched  against  the  rear  end,  running  the  length  of  it.  It 
lias  a  cupola  and  a  flagstaff." 

Carnes  simply  stares. 

"I  will  send  for  Wyman  if  I  need  his  help.  What  I 
am  studying  upon  now  is  a  sufficient  pretext  for  sending 
you  away  suddenly." 

"  I'll  furnish  that,"  Carnes  says,  with  a  droll  roll  of  his 
eye.  "  To-morrow  I'll  get  drunk — beastly  drunk.  You 
shall  inquire  after  me  about  the  hotel  and  at  Porter's.  By- 
and-by  I  will  come  into  the  office  too  drunk  to  be  endura- 
ble. You  must  be  there  to  reprimand  me.  I  grow  in- 
solent ;  you  discharge  me.  I  go  away  somewhere  and  sleep 
off  the  effects  of  my  spree.  You  pay  me  my  wages  in  the 
presence  of  the  clerk,  and  at  midnight  I  board  the  train  en 
route  for  the  Sunny  South.  You  shall  hear  from  me " 

"By  telegraph,"  I  interrupt.  "We  shall  have  a  new 
night  operator  here  within  the  week.  I  arranged  for  that 
when  I  was  in  the  city,  and  wrote  the  old  man,  yesterday, 
to  send  him  on  at  once." 

"All  right;  that's  a  good  move,"  approved  Carnes. 


"  EVOLVING   A  THEORY."  261 

"And  now,"  I  said,  rising  hastily,  and  consulting  my 
watch,  "I  must  go.  To-night,  or  perhaps  in  the  'small 
hours/  we  will  talk  over  matters  again,  and  I  will  explain 
myself  further.  For  the  present,  good-by  ;  I  am  expected 
to-night  at  the  Hill ;  I  shall  pass  the  evening  in  the  society 
of  Miss  Manvers." 


262  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

TWO  DEPARTURES. 

On  the  ensuing  morning,  Carries  and  I  enacted  the 
"quarrel  scene,"  as  planned  by  him  the  previous  night. 

A  more  aggravated  case  of  drunkenness  than  that  pre- 
sented by  Carnes,  a  little  before  noon,  could  not  well  be 
imagined.  He  was  a  marvel  of  reeling  stupidity,  offensive 
hiccoughs,  and  maudlin  insolence. 

Quite  a  number  of  people  were  lounging  about  the  office 
when  Carnes  staggered  in,  thus  giving  me  my  cue  to  com- 
mence. Among  the  rest  were  Dimber  Joe  and  Blake 
Simpson.  Our  scene  went  off  with  considerable  eclat;  and, 
having  paid  Carnes  at  the  office  desk,  with  a  magnificent 
disregard  for  expense,  I  turned  to  leave  the  room,  looking 
back  over  my  shoulder,  to  say  with  my  grandest  air: 

"If  you  think  yourself  sufficiently  sober,  you  may  come 
up-stairs  and  pack  your  things.  The  sooner  you,  and  all 
that  belongs  to  you,  are  out  of  my  sight,  the  better  I  shall 
be  pleased." 

I  had  been  in  my  room  less  than  half  an  hour,  when  I 
heard  Carnes  come  stumbling  noisily  through  the  passage. 

When  he  was  fairly  within  the   room,  he  straightened 


"  If  you  think  yourself  sufficiently  sober,  you  may  come  up-stairs 
and  pack  your  things. " — page  262. 

263 


TWO  DEPARTURES.  265 

himself  suddenly,  and  uttered  a  sound  midway  between  a 
laugh  and  a  chuckle. 

"Old  man,"  he  said,  coming  slowly  toward  me,  "I  don't 
think  I'll  take  the  down  train." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because,"  winking  absurdly,  and  then  staring  up  at  the 
ceiling  while  he  finished  his  sentence,  "the  snakes  are  be- 
ginning to  crawl.  Blake  Simpson  has  just  paid  his  bill, 
and  ordered  his  baggage  to  be  sent  to  the  4:30  train." 

"Ah!     And  you  will  take  the  same  train?" 

"Exactly;  I'm  curious  to  see  where  he  is  going,  and  to 
find  out  why.  We  must  not  remain  together  long,  old 
man.  Do  you  go  down-stairs  and  tell  them  that  I  am 
sleeping  off  my  booze  up  here.  I  shan't  be  very  sober  by 
4:30,  but  I'll  manage  to  navigate  to  the  depot." 

I  went  down  to  the  office,  after  a  few  more  words  with 
Carnes. 

Simpson  and  Dimber  Joe  had  both  disappeared.  Two 
or  three  men  were  smoking  outside,  and  a  man  by  the 
window  was  falling  asleep  over  a  newspaper  three  days 
old.  Mine  host,  in  person,  Avas  lounging  over  the  desk. 
He  was  idle,  and  inclined  to  be  talkative. 

"  You  weren't  trying  to  give  Barney  a  scare,  I  suppose?" 
he  said,  as  I  approached  the  desk.  "Do  you  really  mean 
to  let  him  go?" 

"  I  certainly  do,"  I  replied,  as  I  lounged  upon  the  desk. 
Then,  coming  nearer  mine  host,  and  increasing  the  distance 

*12 


266  OUT  Of  A  LABYEINTH. 

between  myself  and  the  old  man  by  the  window;  "I  have 
been  tolerably  patient  with  the  fellow.  .He  has  his  good 
points,  but  he  has  tired  nie  out.  Patience  has  ceased  to  be 
a  virtue.  I  can  do  very  well  without  him  now.  He- never 
was  much  of  a  valet.  But  I  thought  him  quite  necessary 
as  a  companion  on  my  fishing,  hunting,  and  pedestrian  ex- 
cursions. However,  1  have  become  pretty  well  acquainted 
with  places  and  people,  and  I  find  there  are  plenty  of  guides 
and  compainions  to  be  picked  up.  I  can  do  very  well  with- 
out Barney,  especially  as  of  late  he  is  drunk  oftener  than 
he  is  sober." 

Mine  host  smiled  fraternally.  It  was  not  my  custom  to 
be  so  communicative.  Always,  in  my  character  of  the 
wealthy  aristocrat,  I  had  maintained,  for  the  benefit  of  those 
about  me,  an  almost  haughty  reserve,  only  unbending  when, 
because  of  my  supposed  financial  importance,  I  "was  made 
much  of"  in  the  social  circles  of  the  Trafton  elite.  To-day, 
however,  I  had  an  object  to  gain,  and  I  did  not  bestow  my 
condescending  confidence  without  the  expectation  of  "value 
received." 

"  You'll  have  no  trouble  about  finding  company,"  said 
mine  host,  with  a  benign  smile.  "  As  you  say,  Barney 
has  been  a  good  many  times  off.  He  hasn't  kept  the  best 
of  company.  He's  been  too  much  with  that  Briggs." 

"Yes,"  I  assented,  carelessly;  "  I  have  repeatedly  warned 
him  to  let  the  fellow  alone.  Has  he  no  occupation?" 

"Briggs?  he's  a  sort  of  extra  hand  for  'Squire  Brook- 


TWO  DEPARTURES.  267 

house;  but,  lie  plays  more  than  he  works,"  trifling  with  the 
leaves  of  his  register,  and  then  casting  his  eye  slowly  down 
the  .page  before  him.  "  Here's  an  odd  thing,  you  might 
say,"  laughing,  as  he  lifted  his  eye  from  the  book,  "  I'm 
losing  my  most  boisterous  boarder  and  my  quietest  one  at 
the  same  time." 

"  Indeed ;  who  else  is  going  ?" 

My  entertainer  cast  a  quick  glance  towards  the  occupant 
of  the  window,  and  lowered  his  voice  as  he  replied: 

"The  gentleman  in  gray." 

"  In  gray  ?"  absently.  "  Oh !  to  be  sure,  a — a  patent- 
right  agent,  is  he  not?" 

Another  glance  toward  the  window,  then  lowering  his 
voice  an  additional  half  tone,  and  favoring  me  with  a 
knowing  wink,  he  said : 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  concerning  him  ?" 

"Concerning  the  gentleman  in  gray?" 

My  entertainer  nodded. 

"Assuredly  not,"  said  I,  affecting  languid  surprise. 
"Nothing  wrong  about  the  gentleman,  I  hope?" 

"Nothing  wrong,  oh,  no,"  leaning  over  the  desk,  and 
speaking  slowly.  "They  say  he  is  a  detective" 

"A  detective!"  This  time  my  surprise  was  not  entirely 
feigned.  "Oh — is  not  that  a  sensationalism?" 

"Well,"  said  my  host,  reflectively,  "  I  might  think  so  if 
I  had  heard  it  from  any  of  the  ordinary  loungers; — the 
fact  is,  I  had  no  right  to  mention  the  matter.  I  don't  think 
it  is  guessed  at  by  many." 


268  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

He  was  beginning  to  retire  within  himself.  I  felt  that 
I  must  not  lose  my  ground,  and  became  at  once  more  in- 
terested, more  affable. 

"Oh,  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Holtz,  I  am  quite  interested. 
Do  you  really  think  the  man  a  detective  ?  Pray,  rely  on 
my  discretion." 

There  were  two  hard,  unpainted  chairs  behind  the  office 
desk,  and  some  boxes  contain  ing  cheap  cigars,  upon  a  shelf 
against  the  wall.  I  insinuated  myself  into  one  of  the  chairs, 
and  presently,  Mr.  Holtz  was  seated  near  me  in  the  other, 
smoking  one  of  his  own  cigars,  at  my  expense,  while  I, 
with  a  similar  weed  between  my  lips,  drew  from  him,  as 
best  I  could,  all  that  he  had  heard  and  thought  concerning 
Mr.  Blake  Simpson,  the  gentleman  in  gray. 

It  was  not  much  when  all  told,  but  Mr.  Holtz  consumed 
a  full  hour  in  telling  it. 

Jim  Long  had  been  so  frequently  at  the  hotel  since  the 
advent  of  Blake  and  Dimber  Joe,  that  mine  host  had  re- 
marked upon  the  circumstance,  and,  only  two  days  ago,  had 
rallied  Jim  upon  his  growing  social  propensities. 

Whereupon,  Jim  had  taken  him  aside,  "quite  privately 
and  mysteriously,"  and  confided  to  him  the  fact  that  he, 
Jim,  had  very  good  reason  for  believing  Blake  and  Dim- 
ber, or,  as  my  informer  put  it,  "The  gent  in  gray  and  the 
other  stranger,"  to  be  detectives,  who  were  secretly  work- 
ing in  the  interest  of  'Squire  Brookhouse. 

What  these  very  good  reasons  were,  Jim  had  declined  to 


TWO  DEPARTURES.  269 

state.  But  he  had  conjured  Mr.  Holtz  to  keep  silent  about 
the  matter,  as  to  bring  the  "  detectives"  into  notice  would 
be  to  impair  their  chances  of  ultimate  success. 

Mr.  Holtz  had  promised  to  keep  the  secret,  and  he  had 
kept  it — two  days.  He  should  never  think  of  mentioning 
the  matter  to  any  of  his  neighbors,  he  assured  me  fervently, 
as  they,  for  the  most  part,  being  already  much  excited  over 
the  recent  thefts,  could  hardly  be  expected  to  keep  a  dis- 
creet silence;-  but  I,  "  being  a  stranger,  and  a  different 
person  altogether,"  might,  in  Mr.  Holtz's  opinion,  be  safely 
trusted. 

I  assured  Mr.  Holtz  that  he  might  rely  upon  me  as  he 
would  upon  himself,  and  he  seemed  quite  satisfied  with 
this  rather  equivocal  statement. 

Having  heard  all  that  mine  host  could  tell,  I  remained  in 
further  conversation  with  him  long  enough  to  avoid  any 
appearance  of  abruptness,  and  then,  offering  the  stereotyped 
excuse,  "  letters  to  write,"  I  took  a  second  cigar,  pressed 
another  upon  my  companion,  and  nodding  to  him  with 
friendly  familiarity,  sauntered  away  to  meditate  in  solitude 
upon  what  I  had  just  learned. 

And  so,  if  Mr.  Holtz  had  not  exaggerated,  and  Jim 
Long  was  not  mistaken,  Blake  Simpson  and  Dimber  Joe, 
two  notorious  prison  birds,  were  vegetating  in  Trafton  in 
the  character  of  detectives! 

What  a  satire  on  my  profession  !  And  yet,  absurd  and 
improbable  as  it  seemed,  it  was  not  impossible.  Indeed, 


270  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

did  not  this  theory  account  for  their  seemingly  aimless  so- 
journ here? 

Jim  Long  was  not  the  man  to  perpetrate  a  causeless  jest. 
Neither  was  he  one  to  form  a  hasty  conclusion,  or  to  make 
an  assertion  without  a  motive. 

Whether  his  statement  were  true  or  false,  what  had  been 
his  reason  for  confiding  it  to  Mr.  Holtz?  It  was  not  be- 
cause of  any  especial  friendship  for,  or  attachment  to,  that 
gentleman.  Jim  had  no  intimates,  and  had  he  chosen  such, 
Mr.  Holtz,  gossipping,  idle,  stingy,  and  shallow  of  brain, 
would  scarcely  have  been  the  man. 

Why,  then,  had  he  confided  in  the  man  ? 

Did  he  wish  the  report  to  circulate,  and  himself  remain 
unknown  as  its  author?  AVas  there  some  individual  whose 
ears  he  wished  it  to  reach  through  the  talkative  landlord  ? 

I  paused  in  my  reflections,  half  startled  by  a  sudden 
thought. 

Had  this  shrewd,  incomprehensible  Yankee  guessed  my 
secret?  And  was  Mr.  Holtz's  story  intended  for  me? 

I  arose  to  my  feet,  having  formed  a  sudden  resolution. 

I  would  know  the  truth  concerning  Jim  Long.  I  would 
prove  him  my  friend  or  my  enemy,  and  the  story  told  by 
Mr.  Holtz  should  be  my  wreapon  of  attack. 

As  for  Blake  and  Dimber,  if  they  were  figuring  as  dum- 
my detectives,  who  had  instigated  their  masquerade  ? 

Again  I  started,  confronted  by  a  strange  new  thought. 

'Squire  Brookhouse  had  telegraphed  to  an  agent  to  em- 


TWO  DEPARTURES.  271 

ploy  for  him  two  detectives.  My  Chief  had  been  unable  to 
discover  what  officers  had  been  employed.  Carnes  and 
nivself,  although  we  had  kept  a  faithful  lookout,  had  been 
able  to  discover  no  traces  of  a  detective  in  Trafton.  Indeed, 
except  for  ourselves  and  the  two  crooks,  there  were  no 
strangers  in  the  village,  nor  had  there  been  since  the  rob- 
bery. 

If  Blake  and  Dimber  were  playing  at  detectives,  why 
was  it?  Had  the  agent  employed  by  'Squire  Brookhouse 
played  him  a  trick,  or  had  he  been  himself  duped? 

'Squire  Brookhouse  had  telegraphed  to  his  lawyer,  it  was 
said.  A  lawyer  could  have  no  motive  for  duping  a  wealthy 
client,  nor  would  lie  be  likely  to  be  imposed  upon  or  ap- 
proached by  such  men  as  Blake  and  Dimber. 

Had  Squire  Brookhouse  procured  the  services  of  these 
men  ?  And  i  f  so,  why  ? 

Carnes  was  endeavoring  to  sustain  his  role  by  taking  a 
much  needed  nap  upon  his  cot,  but  I  now  roused  him  with 
eager  haste,  and  regaled  his  sleepy  ears  with  the  story  I 
had  just  listened  to  below  stairs. 

At  first  he  seemed  only  to  see  the  absurdity  of  the  idea, 
and  he  buried  his  face  in  the  pillow,  to  stifle  the  merriment 
which  rose  to  his  lips  at  the  thought  of  (lie  protection  such 
detectives  would  be  likely  to  afford  the  innocent  Traftonites. 

Then  he  became  Avide  awake  and  sufficiently  serious,  and 
wo  hastily  d'scussed  the  possibilities  of  the  case. 

There  "was  not  much  to  be  done  in  the  way  of  iavestiga 


272  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

lion  just  then;  Carnes  would  follow  after  Blake  so  long  as 
it  seemed  necessary,  or  until  he  could  inform  me  how  to 
guard  against  any  evil  the  crook  might  be  intent  upon. 

Meantime  I  must  redouble  my  vigilance,  and  let  no 
movement  of  Dimber's  escape  my  notice. 

To  this  end  I  abandoned,  for  the  present,  my  hastily 
formed  resolution,  to  go  at  once  in  search  of  Jim  Long,  and 
bring  about  a  better  understanding  between  us.  That  er- 
rand, being  of  less  importance  than  the  surveillance  of  the 
rascal  Dimber,  could  be  left  to  a  more  convenient  season, 
or  so  I  reasoned  in  my  pitiful  blindness. 

Where  was  my  professional  wisdom  then  ?  Where  the 
unerring  foresight,  the  fine  instinct,  that  should  have  warned 
me  of  danger  ahead? 

Had  these  been  in  action,  one  man  might  have  been 
saved  a  shameful  stigma,  and  another,  from  the  verge  of 
the  grave. 


A  SHOT  IN  THE  DARK.  273 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A  SHOT  IN   THE  DARK. 

That  afternoon  dragged  itself  slowly  away. 

I  left  Carnes  in  our  room,  and  went  below  to  note  the 
movements  of  the  two  crooks. 

They  were  both  upon  the  piazza ;  Blake  smoking  a  well- 
colored  meerschaum  and  seemingly  half  asleep,  and  the 
Dimber,  with  his  well-polished  boot  heels  elevated  to  the 
piazza  railing,  reading  from  a  brown  volume,  with  a  coun- 
tenance expressive  of  absorbed  interest. 

I  seated  myself  where  I  could  observe  both  without 
seeming  to  do  so,  and  tilting  my  hat  over  my  nose,  dropped 
into  a  lounging  attitude.  I  suppose  that  I  looked  the  per- 
sonification of  careless  indolence.  I  know  that  I  felt  per- 
plexed, annoyed,  uncomfortable. 

Perplexed,  because  of  the  many  mysteries  that  surrounded 
me.  Annoyed,  because  while  I  longed  to  be  actively  at 
work  upon  the  solution  of  these  mysteries,  I  could  only  sit 
like  a  sleepy  idiot,  and  furtively  watch  two  rascals  engaged 
in  killing  time,  the  one  with  a  pipe,  the  other  with  a  French 
novel.  Uncomfortable,  because  the  day  was  sultry,  and 

the  piazza  chairs  were  hard,  and  constructed  with   little 

18 


274  OUT  OF  A  LABYJKIXTH. 

regard  for  the  ease  of  the  forms  that  would  occupy  them. 

But  there  comes  an  end  to  all  things,  or  so  it  is  said.  At 
last  there  came  an  end  to  my  loitering  on  the  warm  piazza. 

At  the  proper  time  Carncs  came  lumbering  down-stairs 
seeming  not  yet  sobered,  but  fully  equipped  for  his  journey. 
He  took  an  affectionate  leave  of  the  landlord,  receiving 
some  excellent  advice-  in  return.  And,  after  favoring  me 
with  a  farewell  speech,  half  maudlin,  half  impertinent, 
wholly  absurd,  and  intended  for  the  benefit  of  the  lookers- 
on,  who  certainly  enjoyed  the  scene,  he  departed  noisily, 
and,  as  Barney  Cooley,  was  seen  no  more  in  Trafton. 

A  few  moments  later,  "  the  gentleman  in  gray"  also  took 
his  leave,  bestowing  a  polite  nod  upon  one  or  two  of  the 
more  social  ones,  but  without  so  much  as  glancing  toward 
Dimber  Joe  or  myself.  He  walked  sedately  away,  fol- 
lowed by  the  hotel  factotum,  who  carried  his  natty  travel- 
ing bag. 

Still  Dimber  read  on  at  his  seemingly  endless  novel, 
and  still  I  lounged  about  the  porch,  sometimes  smoking, 
sometimes  feigning  sleep. 

At  last  came  supper  time.  I  hailed  it  as  a  pleasant  re- 
spite, and  followed  Dimber  Joe  to  the  dining  room  with 
considerable  alacrity. 

Dr.  Bethel  came  in  soon,  looking  grave  and  weary.  We 
saluted  each  other,  but  Bethel  seemed  little  inclined  to  talk, 
and  I  was  glad  not  to  be  engaged  in  a  conversation  which 
miarht  detain  me  at  the  table  after  Joe  had  left  it. 


A  SHOT  IN  THE  DAKK.  275 

Bethel,  I  knew,  was  much  at  the  house  of  the  Barnards. 
The  shock  caused  by  the  loss  of  her  husband,  together  with 
the  fatigue  occasioned  by  his  illness,  had  prostrated  Mrs. 
Barnard,  who,  it  was  said,  was  threatened  with  a  fever,  and 
Bethel  was  in  constant  attendance. 

As  yet  there  had  been  no  opportunity  for  the  renewal 
of  the  conversation,  concerning  the  grave  robbery,  which 
had  been  interrupted  more  than  a  week  since  by  Mr.  Brook- 
house,  and  afterwards  effectually  cut  off  by  my  flying  visit 
to  the  city. 

When  the  Dimber  left  the  table  I  followed  him  almost 
immediately,  only  to  again  find  him  poring  over  that  ab- 
sorbing novel,  and  seemingly  oblivious  to  all  else. 

Sundown  came,  and  then  twilight.  As  darkness  gathered, 
Dimber  Joe  laid  down  his  book  with  evident  reluctance 
and  carefully  lighted  a  cigar. 

Would  he  sit  thus  all  the  evening?  I  was  chafing  in- 
wardly. Would  the  man  do  nothing  to  break  this  mon- 
otony? 

Presently  a  merry  whistle  broke  upon  the  stillness,  and 
quick  steps  came  down  the  street. 

It  was  Charlie  Harris  and,  as  on  a  former  occasion,  he 
held  a  telegram  in  his  hand. 

"For  you,"  he  said,  having  peered  hard  at  me  through 
the  gloom.  "  It  came  half  an  hour  ago,  but  I  could  not  get 
down  until  now." 

I  took  the  envelope  from  his  hand  and  slowly  arose. 


276  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  will  want  my  help  to  read  it,"  he 
said,  with  an  odd  laugh,  as  I  turned  toward  the  lighted 
office  to  peruse  my  message. 

I  gave  him  a  quick  glance,  and  then  said : 
"Come  in,  Harris,  there  may  be  an  answer  wanted." 
He  followed  me  to  the  office  desk,  and  I  was  conscious 
that  he  was  watching  my  face  as  I  perused  its  contents. 
This  is  what  I  read  by  the  office  lamp. 

4  — .  II ,  c,  n,  c,  e,  o,  g,  k,  i,  m,  b,  — ,  s,  i,  a  — . 

A  cipher  message.  I  turned,  half  smiling,  to  meet  the 
eye  of  Harris  and  kept  my  own  eyes  upon  his  face  while 
I  said : 

"I'm  obliged  to  you,  Harris,  your  writing  is  capital,  and 
very  easily  read.  No  answer  is  required." 

The  shrewd  twinkle  of  his  eye  assured  me  that  he 
comprehended  my  meaning  as  well  as  my  words. 

I  offered  him  a  cigar,  and  lighted  another  for  myself. 
Then  we  went  out  upon  the  piazza  together. 

We  had  been  in  the  office  less  than  four  minutes,  but  in 
that  time  Dimber  Joe  had  disappeared,  French  novel  and 
all.  Much  annoyed  I  peered  up  and  down  the  street. 

To  the  left  was  the  town  proper,  the  stores,  the  depot, 
and  other  business  places.  To  the  right  were  dwellings 
and  churches ;  a  hill,  the  summit  and  sides  adorned  with  the 
best  residences  of  the  village ;  then  a  hollow,  where  nestled 

O      f  f 

Dr.   Bethel's   small  cottage ;   and  farther   on,  and    back 


A  SHOT  IN  THE  DARK.  277 

from  the  highway,  Jim  Long's  cabin.  Beyond  these  an- 
other hill,  crowned  by  the  capacious  dwelling  of  the  Brook- 
house  family. 

Which  way  had  Diniber  gone?" 

It  was  early  in  the  evening,  too  early  to  setout  on  an  ex- 
pedition requiring  stealth.  Then  I  remembered  that  Joe 
had  not  left  the  hotel  since  dinner;  probably  he  had  gone 
to  the  post  office. 

Harris  was  returning  in  that  direction.  I  ran  down 
the  steps  and  strolled  town  ward  in  his  company. 

"  It's  deuced  hot,"  said  Harris,  with  characteristic 
emphasis,  as  he  lifted  his  hat  to  wipe  a  perspiring  brow. 
"  My  office  is  the  warmest  hole  in  town  after  the  breeze 
goes  down,  and  I've  got  to  stay  there  until  midnight." 

"Extra  business?"  I  inquired. 

"  Not  exactly  ;  we  are  going  to  have  a  night  operator." 

"  Ah !"  The  darkness  hid  the  smile  on  my  face. 
"That  will  relieve  you  a  little?" 

"  Yes,  a  little ;  but  I'm  blessed  if  I  understand  it. 
Business  is  unusually  light  just  now.  I  needed  an  assist- 
ant more  in  the  Fall  and  Winter." 

"Indeed,"  I  said,  aloud.  Then  to  myself,  "But  Games 
and  I  did  not  need  one  so  much." 

Our  agency  had  done  some  splendid  work  for  the  tele- 
graph company  whose  wires  ran  through  Trafton ;  and  I 
knew,  before  requesting  a  new  operator  in  the  town,  that 
they  stood  ready  to  oblige  my  Chief  to  any  extent  com- 


OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

patible  with  their  own  business.  And  my  Chief  had  been 
expeditious  indeed. 

"Then  you  look  for  your  night  operator  by  the  down 
express?"  I  questioned,  carelessly. 

"  Yes ;  they  wired  me  that  he  would  come  to-night.  I  hope 
he'll  be  an  obliging  fellow,  who  won't  mind  taking  a  day 
turn  now  and  then." 

"  I  hope  so,"  I  replied,  "for  your  sake,  Harris." 

We  had  reached  the  post-office,  and  bidding  him  good 
night,  I  entered. 

A  few  tardy  Traftouites  were  there,  asking  for  and  re- 
ceiving their  mail,  but  Dimber  Joe  was  not  among  them. 

I  went  slowly  back  to  Porter's  store,  glancing  in  at 
various  windows  as  I  passed,  but  saw  not  the  missing 
man. 

How  had  he  eluded  me?  Where  should  I  look  for 
him? 

Returning  to  the  hotel,  I  sat  down  in  the  seat  lately  oc- 
cupied by  the  vanished  crook,  and  pondered. 

Was  Dimber  about  to  strike  ?  Had  he  strolled  out  thus 
early  to  reconnoiter  his  territory  ?  If  so,  he  would  return 
anon  to  equip  himself  for  the  work;  he  could  not  well 
carry  a  burglar's  kit  in  the  light  suit  he  wore. 

Suddenly  I  arose  and  hurried  up  the  stairs,  resolved 
upon  a  bold  measure. 

Hastily  unlocking  my  trunk,  I  removed  a  tray,  and  from 
a  skillfully  concealed  compartment,  took  a  pair  of  nippers, 


A  SHOT  IN  THE  DAEK.  279 

some  skeleton  keys,  and  a  small  tin  case,  shaped  like  the 
candle  it  contained.  Next,  I  removed  my  hat,  coat,  and 
boots;  and,  in  another  moment,  was  standing  before  the 
door  of  the  room  occupied  by  Dimber  Joe.  I  knocked 
lightly  and  the  silence  within  convinced  me  that  the  room 
was  unoccupied. 

The  Trafton  House  was  not  plentifully  supplied  with 
bolts,  as  I  knew ;  and  my  nippers  assured  me  that  there 
was  no  key  in  the  lock. 

Thus  emboldened,  I  fitted  one  of  the  skeleton  keys,  and 
was  soon  within  the  room,  making  a  hasty  survey  of  Dim- 
ber Joe's  effects. 

Aided  again  by  my  skeleton  keys,  I  hurriedly  opened 
and  searched  the  two  valises.  They  were  as  honest  as  they 
looked. 

The  first  contained  a  liberal  supply  of  polished  linen,  a 
water-proof  coat  and  traveling-cap,  together  with  other 
articles  of  clothing,  and  two  or  three  novels.  The  second 
held  the  clerical  black  suit  worn  by  Dimber  on  the  evening 
of  his  arrival  in  Trafton ;  a  brace  of  linen  dusters,  a  few 
articles  of  the  toilet,  and  a  small  six-shooter. 

There  was  nothing  else;  no  concealed  jimmy,  no  "tools" 
of  any  description. 

It  might  have  been  the  outfit  of  a  country  parson,  but 
for  (he  novels  and  the  revolver.  This  latter  was  loaded, 
and,  without  any  actual  motive  for  so  doing,  I  extracted 
the  cartridges  and  put  them  in  my  pocket. 


280  OUT  OF  A  LABYKINTH. 

In  another  moment  I  was  back  in  my  own  room,  baffled, 
disappointed,  and  puzzled  more  than  before. 

Sitting  there  alone,  I  drew  from  my  pocket  the  lately  re- 
ceived telegram,  and  surveyed  it  once  more. 

4 — .  H,  c,  n,  c,  e,  o,  g,  k,  i,  m,  b — s,  i,  a — . 

Well  might  Harris  have  been  puzzled.  Arrant  nonsense 
it  must  have  seemed  to  him,  but  to  me  it  was  simplicity  it- 
self. The  dispatch  was  from  Carnes,  and  it  said : 

"He  is  coming  back." 

Simplicity  itself,  as  the  reader  will  see,  by  comparing  the 
letters  and  the  words. 

"He  is  coming  back."  This  being  interpreted,  meant, 
"  Blake  Simpson  is  now  returning  to  Trafton." 

Was  I  growing  imbecile?  . 

Blake  Simpson  had  departed  in  the  daylight,  doubtless 
taking  the  "tools  of  his  trade"  with  him,  hence  the  in- 
nocent appearance  of  his  partner's  room,  for  partners,  I 
felt  assured,  they  were. 

He  was  returning  under  cover  of  the  darkness ;  Dimber 
had  gone  out  to  meet  him,  and  before  morning,  Trafton 
would  be  supplied  with  a  fresh  sensation. 

How  was  I  to  act?     How  discover  their  point  of  attack? 

It  yet  lacked  more  than  two  hours  of  midnight.  Trafton 
had  not  yet  gone  to  sleep. 

Blake  was  coming  back,  but  how  ? 

My  telegram  came  from  a  village  fifteen   miles  distant. 


"  Thus  assured,  I  fitted  oneof  the  skeleton  keys." — page  279. 

281 


A  SHOT  IN  THE  DARK.  283 

Blake  then  must  have  left  the  train  at  that  point,  and  Carnes 
had  followed  him.  He  had  followed  him  until  assured  that 
he  was  actually  returning  to  Trafton,  and  then  he  had  sent 
the  message. 

Blake  might  return  in  two  ways.  He  might  hire  a  con- 
veyance and  drive  back  to  Trafton,  or  he  might  walk  back 
as  far  as  the  next  station,  a  distance  of  five  miles,  and  there 
wrait  for  the  night  express. 

It  seemed  hardly  probable  that  he  would  care  to  court 
notice  by  presenting  himself  at  an  inn  or  livery  stable.  He 
would  be  more  apt  to  walk  away  from  the  village,  assume 
some  light  disguise,  and  return  by  the  train.  It  would  be 
a  child's  trick  for  him  to  drop  from  the  moving  train 
as  it  entered  the  town,  and  disappear  unnoticed  in  the 
darkness. 

Carnes  might  return  by  that  train,  also,  but  we  had 
agreed  that,  unless  he  was  fully  convinced  that  Blake  meant 
serious  mischief,  and  that  I  would  need  his  assistance,  he 
was  to  continue  on  his  journey,  as  it  seemed  important  that 
he  should  be  in  New  Orleans  as  soon  as  possible. 

After  some  consideration,  I  decided  that  I  would  attach 
myself  to  Dimber,  should  he  return,  as  it  seemed  likely  that 
he  would,  it  being  so  early.  And  if  he  failed  to  appear, 
I  would  lie  in  wait  for  the  night  express,  and  endeavor  to 
spot  Blake,  should  he  come  that  way. 

Having  thus  decided,  I  resumed  my  hat,  coat  and  boots, 
extinguished  my  light,  locked  my  door  and  went  down-stairs. 


284  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

The  office  lamp  was  burning  its  brightest,  and  there  un- 
derneath it,  tilted  back  in  the  only  arm-chair  the  room 
could  boast,  sat  Dimber  Joe;  his  hat  hung  on  a  rack  be- 
side the  door,  a  fresh  cigar  was  stuck  between  his  lips,  and 
he  was  reading  again  that  brown-covered  French  novel ! 

I  began  to  feel  like  a  man  in  a  nightmare.  Could  that 
indolent-looking  novel  reader  be  meditating  a  crime,  and 
only  waiting  for  time  to  bring  the  hour? 

I  went  out  upon  the  piazza  and  fanned  myself  with  my 
hat.  I  felt  discomposed,  and  almost  nervous.  At  that 
moment  I  wished  devoutly  that  I  could  see  Games. 

By-and-by  my  absurd  self-distrust  passed  away,  and  I 
began  to  feel  once  more  equal  to  the  occasion. 

Dimber's  room  was  not,  like  mine,  at  the  end  of  the  build- 
ing. It  was  a  "  front  room,"  and  its  two  windows  opened 
directly  over  the  porch  upon  which  I  stood. 

I  had  the  side  door  of  the  office  in  full  view.  He  could 
not  leave  the  house  unseen  by  me. 

Mr.  Holtz  came  out  to  talk  with  me.  I  complained  of 
a  headache  and  declared  my  intention  to  remain  outside 
until  it  should  have  passed  away.  We  conversed  for  half 
an  hour,  and  then,  as  the  hands  of  the  office  clock  pointed 
to  half-past  ten  he  left  me  to  make  his  nightly  round 
through  kitchen,  pantries,  and  dining-room,  locking  and 
barring  the  side  door  of  the  office  before  going.  And  still 
Dimber  Joe  read  on,  to  all  appearances  oblivious  of  time 
and  all  things  else. 


A  SHOT  IN  THE  DARK.  285 

A  wooden  bench,  hard  and  narrow,  ran  along  tlu  wall 
just  under  the  office  window,  affording  a  seat  for  loungers 
when  the  office  should  be  overfull,  and  the  chairs  all  occu- 
pied. Upon  this  I  stretched  myself,  and  feigned  sleep,  for 
a  time  that  seemed  interminable. 

Eleven  o'clock;  eleven  loud  metalic  strokes  from  the 
office  time  keeper. 

Dimber  Joe  lowered  the  leg  that  had  been  elevated, 
elevated  the  leg  that  had  been  lowered,  turned  a  page  of  his 
novel  and  read  on.  The  man's  coolness  was  tantalizing.  I 
longed  to  forget  my  identity  as  a  detective,  and  his  as  a 
criminal,  and  to  spring  through  the  window,  strike  tl.  j 
book  from  his  hand,  and  challenge  him  to  mortal  combat, 
with  dirks  at  close  quarters,  or  pistols  at  ten  paces. 

Half-past  el  even .  D  imber  Joe  stretched  his  limbs,  closed 
his  book,  yawned  and  arose.  Whistling  softly,  as  if  not  to 
disturb  my  repose,  he  took  a  small  lamp  from  a  shelf  be- 
hind the  office  desk,  lighted  it  leisurely  and  went  up-stairs. 

As  he  entered  the  room  above,  a  ray  of  light  from  his 
window  gleamed  out  across  the  road.  It  rested  there  for, 
perhaps,  five  minutes  and  then  disappeared. 

Had  Dimber  Joe  closed  his  novel  to  retire  like  an  honest 
man? 

Ten  more  long  minutes  of  quiet  and  silence,  and  then  the 
stillness  was  broken  by  a  long,  shrill  shriek,  sounding  halt 
a  mile  distant.  It  was  the  night  express  nearing  Trafton 
station. 


OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


As  this  sound  died  upon  the  air,  another  greeted  my  ears; 
the  sound  of  swift  feet  running  heedlessly,  hurriedly  ;  com- 
ing directly  toward  me  from  the  southward. 

As  I  rose  from  my  lounging  place  and  stepped  to  the  end 
of  the  piazza  the  runner  came  abreast  of  me,  and  the  light 
streaming  through  the  office  window  revealed  to  me  Jim 
Long,  hatless,  coatless,  almost  breathless. 

The  lamp  light  fell  upon  me  also,  and  even  as  he  ran  he 
recognized  me. 

Halting  suddenly,  he  turned  back  with  a  quick  ejacula- 
tion, which  I  did  not  understand. 

"Long,  what  has  happened?" 

The  answer  came  between  short,  sharp  breaths. 

"Carl  Bethel  has  been  shot  down  at  his  own  door!  For 
God's  sake  go  to  him  !  He  is  there  alone.  I  must  find  a 
doctor." 

In  another  instant  he  was  running  townward  at  full 
speed,  and  I  was  flying  at  an  equal  pace  through  the  dark 
and  silent  street  toward  Dr.  Bethel's  cottage. 


"  Carl  Bethel  has  been  shot   down  at  his  own   door!     For  God's 
sake  go  to  him!  He  is  there  alone.  I  must  find  a  doctor."  — page  286. 

287 


JIM  LONG-  SHOWS  HIS  HAND.  289 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

JIM  LONG  SHOWS  HIS  HAND. 

As  I  ran  through  the  silent,  dusky  street,  keeping  to  the 
road  in  preference  to  risking  myself,  at  that  pace,  over  some 
most  uncertain  "  sidewalks,"  for  pavements  were  unknown 
in  Trafton,  my  thoughts  were  keeping  pace  with  my  heels. 

First  they  dwelt  upon  the  fact  that  Jim  Long,  in  making 
his  brief,  hasty  exhortation  to  me,  had  forgotten,  or  chosen 
to  ignore,  his  nasal  twang  and  rustic  dialect,  and  that  his 
earnestness  and  agitation  had  betrayed  a  more  than  ordinary 
interest  in  Carl  Bethel,  and  a  much  more  than  ordinary  dis- 
may at  the  calamity  which  had  befallen  him. 

Carl  Bethel  had  been  shot  down  at  his  own  door! 

How  came  it  that  Jim  Long  was  near  the  scene  and 
ready  for  the  rescue,  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night?  Who  had 
committed  the  deed?  And  why? 

Some  thoughts  come  to  us  like  inspirations.  Suddenly 
there  flashed  upon  my  mind  a  possible  man  and  a  probable 
motive. 

Blake  Simpson  was  coming  back.  Contrary  to  my  ex- 
pectations, he  had  probably  entered  Trafton  on  foot,  hav- 
ing made  the  journey  by  means  of  some  sort  of  conveyance 
19  *13 


290  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

which  was  now,  perhaps,  carrying  him  away  from  the 
scene  of  his  crime. 

This  would  explain  the  singular  apathy  of  Dimber  Joe. 
He  had  walked  out  earlier  in  the  evening  to  ascertain  that 
the  way  was  clear  and  the  game  within  reach,  or,  in  other 
words,  at  home  and  alone.  Then  perhaps  he  had  made 
these  facts  known  to  his  confederate,  and  after  that,  his 
part  in  the  plot  being  accomplished,  he  had  returned  to 
the  hotel,  where  he  had  kept  himself  conspicuously  in  sight 
until  after  the  deed  was  done.  Here  was  a  theory  for  the 
murder  ready  to  hand,  and  a  motive  was  not  wanting. 

Only  a  week  since,  some  party  or  parties  had  committed 
a  shameful  outrage,  and  the  attempt  had  been  made  to 
fasten  the  crime  upon  Carl  Bethel.  Fortunately  the 
counter  evidence  had  been  sufficient  to  clear  him  in  the 
eyes  of  impartial  judges.  The  doctor's  courage  and  popu- 
larity had  carried  him  safely  through  the  danger.  His 
enemies  had  done  him  little  hurt,  and  had  not  succeeded 
in  driving  him  from  Trafton.  Obviously  he  was  in  some- 
body's way,  and  the  first  attempt  having  failed,  they  had 
made  a  second  and  more  desperate  one. 

Here  my  mental  diagnosis  of  the  case  came  to  an  end. 
I  had  reached  the  gate  of  the  doctor's  cottage. 

All  was  silent  as  I  opened  the  door  and  entered  the 
sitting-room.  A  shaded  lamp  burned  softly  on  the  center- 
table,  and  beside  it  stood  the  doctor's  easy-chair  and  foot- 
rest.  An  open  book  lay  upon  the  table,  as  if  lately  laid 


JIM  LONG  SHOWS  HIS  HAND.  291 

down  by  the  occupant  of  the  chair,  who  had  put  a  half- 
filled  pipe  between  the  pages,  to  mark  the  place  where  he 
had  stopped  reading  when  interrupted  by — what? 

Thus  much  I  observed  at  a  glance,  and  then  turned 
toward  the  inner  room  where,  upon  the  bed,  lay  Carl 
Bethel. 

Was  he  living  or  dead  ? 

Taking  the  lamp  from  the  table  I  carried  it  to  the  bed- 
side, and  bent  to  look  at  the  still  form  lying  thereon.  The 
loose  coat  of  white  linen,  and  also  the  vest,  had  been  drawn 
back  from  the  right  shoulder;  both  were  blood-stained, 
and  the  entire  shirt  front  was  saturated  with  blood. 

I  put  the  lamp  upon  a  stand  beside  the  bed,  and  ex- 
amined closer.  The  hands  were  not  yet  cold  with  the 
chill  of  death,  the  breath  came  feebly  from  between  the 
parted  lips. 

What  should  I  do  ? 

.  As  I  glanced  about  the  room  while  asking  myself  this 
helpless  question,  there  came  a  step  upon  the  gravel  outside, 
quick,  light,  firm.  Then  the  door  opened,  and  Louise 
Barnard  stood  before  me. 

Shall  I  ever  forget  that  woful  face,  white  as  the  face 
ot  death,  rigid  with  the  calmness  of  despair?  Shall  I  ever 
banish  from  my  memory  those  great  dark  eyes,  too  full  of 
anguish  for  tears?  It  was  another  mental  picture  of 
Louise  Barnard  never  to  be  forgotten. 
"  Carl,  Carl !" 


292  OUT  OF  A  LABYKINTH. 

She  was  on  her  knees  at  the  bedside  clasping  the  limp 
hand  between  her  own,  bowing  her  white  face  until  it  rested 
upon  his. 

"Carl,  Carl!  speak  to  me  !" 

But  there  was  no  word  of  tenderness  in  answer  to  her 
pitiful  appeal,  no  returning  pressure  from  the  still  hand, 
and  she  buried  her  head  in  the  pillows,  uttering  a  low  moan 
of  despair. 

In  the  presence  of  one  weaker  than  myseK,  my  own  help- 
lessness forsook  me.  I  approached  the  girl  who  knelt 
there  believing  her  lover  dead,  and  touched  her  shoulder 
lightly. 

"Miss  Barnard,  we  have  no  time  now  for  grief.  He  is 
not  dead." 

She  was  on  her  feet  in  an  instant. 

"Not  dead  !     Then  he  must  not  die!" 

A  red  flush  mounted  to  her  cheek,  a  new  light  leaped  to 
her  eye.  She  waited  to  ask  or  give  no  explanation,  but 
turned  once  more  and  laid  her  hand  upon  the  blood-ensan- 
guined garments. 

"Ah,  we  must  waste  no  more  time.  Can  you  cut  away 
this  clothing?" 

I  nodded  and  she  sprang  from  the  room.  I  heard 
a  clicking  of  steel  and  the  sound  of  opening  drawers,  then 
she  was  back  with  a  pair  of  sharp  scissors  in  her  hand. 

"  Use  these,"  she  said,  taking  command  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  flitting  out  again,  leaving  me  to  do  my  work, 


"  Carl,  Carl !  speak  to  me !" — page  292. 


293 


JIM  LONG  SHOWS  HIS  HAND.  295 

and  as  I  worked,  I  marveled  at  and  admired  her  wonderful 
presence  of  mind — her  splendid  self-control. 

In  a  moment  I  knew,  by  the  crack  of  a  parlor  match 
and  a  responsive  flash  of  steady  light,  that  she  had  found 
a  lamp  and  lighted  it. 

There  were  the  sounds  of  another  search,  and  then  she 
was  back  again  with  restoratives  and  some  pieces  of 
linen. 

Glancing  down  at  the  bed  she  uttered  a  sharp  exclama- 
tion, and  all  the  blood  fled  out  of  her  face.  I  had  just  laid 
bare  a  ghastly  wound  in  the  right  shoulder,  and  danger- 
ously near  the  lung. 

It  was  with  a  mighty  effort  that  she  regained  her  self- 
control.  Then  she  put  down  the  things  she  held,  and  said, 
quite  gently : 

"  Please  chafe  his  hands  and  temples,  and  afterward  try 
the  restoratives.  There  is  a  fluid  heater  out  there.  I  must 
have  warm  water  before — " 

"  Long  has  gone  for  a  doctor,"  I  interrupted,  thinking 
her  possibly  ignorant  of  this  fact. 

"  I  know  ;  we  must  have  everything  ready  for  him." 

She  went  out  and  I  bega*n  my  work  of  restoration. 

After  some  time  passed  in  the  outer  room,  she  came 
back  to  the  bedside  and  assisted  me  in  my  task. 

After  a  little,  a  faint  sigh  and  a  feeble  fluttering  of  the 
eyelids  assured  us  that  we  were  not  thus  active  in  vain. 
The  girl  caught  her  breath,  and  while  she  renewed  her 


296  OUT  OP  A  LABYRINTH. 

efforts  at  restoration  I  saw  that  she  was  fast  losing  her  self- 
control. 

And  now  we  heard  low  voices  and  hurrying  footsteps. 

It  was  the  doctor  at  last. 

Excepting  Bethel,  Dr.  Hess  was  the  youngest  practitioner 
in  Trafton.  He  was  a  bachelor,  and  slept  at  his  office,  a 
fact  which  Jim  took  into  account  in  calling  for  him,  instead 
of  waking  up  old  Dr.  Baumbach,  who  lived  at  the  extreme 
north  of  the  village. 

Dr.  Hess  looked  very  grave,  and  Jim  exceedingly  anxious, 
as  the  two  bent  together  over  the  patient. 

After  a  brief  examination,  Dr.  Hess  said: 

"I  must  get  at  Bethel's  instruments.  I  know  he  keeps 
them  here,  so  did  not  stop  to  fetch  mine." 

"They  are  all  ready." 

He  turned  in  surprise.  Miss  Barnard  had  drawn  back 
at  his  entrance,  and  he  was  now,  for  the  first  time,  aware 
of  her  presence. 

"  I  knew  what  was  required,"  she  said,  in  answer  to  his 
look  of  surprise.  "They  are  ready  for  you." 

The  doctor  moved  toward  the  outer  room. 

"I  must  have  some  tepid  water,"  he  said. 

"  That,  too,  is  ready.     I  shall  assist  you,  Dr.  Hess." 

"You!" 

"Yes,  I.  I  know  something  about  the  instruments.  I 
have  helped  my  father  more  than  once." 

"But—" 


JIM  LONG  SHOWS  HIS  HAND.  297 

"There  need  be  no  objection.  I  am  belter  qualified  than 
either  of  these  gentlemen." 

He  looked  at  me,  still  hesitating. 

"I  think  you  can  trust  the  lady,"  I  said;  "she  has 
proved  her  capability." 

"Very  well,  Miss  Barnard,"  said  the  doctor,  more 
graciously ;  "it  may  try  your  nerves  ;"  and,  taking  up  some 
instruments,  he  turned  toward  the  inner  room. 

"I  shall  be  equal  to  it,"  she  replied,  as,  gathering  up 
some  lint,  and  going  across  the  room  for  a  part  of  the 
water,  fast  heating  over  the  fluid  lamp,  she  followed  him. 

"  Doctor,  can't  we  do  something  ?"  asked  Jim  Long. 

"Nothing  at  present." 

How  still  it  was!  Jim  Long  stood  near  the  center  of 
the  room,  panting  heavily,  and  looking  down  at  a  dark 
stain  in  the  carpet, — a  splash  of  human  blood  that  marked 
the  place  where  Bethel  had  fallen  under  the  fire  of  the  as- 
sassin. His  face  was  flushed,  and  its  expression  fiercely 
gloomy.  His  hands  were  clenched  nervously,  his  eye 
riveted  to  that  spot  upon  the  carpet,  his  lips  moved  from 
time  to  time,  as  if  framing  anathemas  against  the  would-be 
destroyer. 

After  a  time,  I  ventured,  in  a  low  tone: 

"Long,  you  are  breathing  like  a  spent  racer.  .  Sit  down. 
You  may  need  your  breath  before  long." 

He  turned,  silently  opened  the  outer  door,  making 
scarcely  a  sound,  and  went  out  into  the  night. 


298  OUT  OP  A  LABYRINTH. 

That  was  a  long  half  hour  which  I  passed,  sitting  beside 
the  little  table  with  that  splash  of  blood  directly  before  my 
eyes,  hearing  no  sound  save  an  occasional  rustle  from  the  inner 
room,  and  now  and  then  a  low  word  spoken  by  Dr.  Hess. 

To  think  to  the  purpose  seemed  impossible,  in  that  still- 
ness where  life  and  death  stood  face  to  face.  I  could  only 
wait;  anxiously,  impatiently,  fearing  the  worst. 

At  last  it  was  over ;  and  Jim,  who  evidently,  though 
out  of  sight,  had  not  been  out  of  hearing,  came  in  to  listen 
to  the  verdict  of  Dr.  Hess. 

"It  was  a  dangerous  wound,"  he  said,  "and  the  patient 
was  in  a  critical  condition.  He  might  recover,  with  good 
nursing,  but  the  chances  were  much  against  him." 

A  spasm  of  pain  crossed  Louise  Barnard's  face,  and  I 
saw  her  clench  her  small  hand  in  a  fierce  effort  to  maintain 
her  self-control.  Then  she  said,  quite  calmly: 

"  In  his  present  condition,  will  he  not  require  the  con- 
stant attention  of  a  surgeon  ?" 

Dr.  Hess  bowed  his  head. 

* 

"Hemorrhage  is  likely  to  occur,"  he  said.  "He  might 
need  surgical  aid  at  a  moment's  notice." 

"Then,  Dr.  Hess,  would  you  object  to  our  calling  for 
counsel — for  an  assistant  ?" 

He  elevated  his  eyebrows,  more  in  surprise  at  the  pro- 
noun, I  thought,  than  at  the  suggestion,  or  request. 

"  I  think  it  might  be  well  to  have  Dr.  Baumbach  in  to- 
morrow," he  replied. 


JIM  LONG  SHOWS  HIS  HAND.  299 

"I  was  not  thinking  of  Dr.  Baumbach,"  she  said.  "I 
wish  to  send  to  New  York  for  a  doctor  who  is  a  relative 
of  Mr.  Bethel's.  I  know — it  is  what  he  would  wish." 

Dr.  Hess  glanced  from  her  face  to  mine  and  remained 
silent. 

"  AVhen  my  father  was  sick/'  she  went  on,  now  looking 
appeal!  ugly  from  the  doctor's  face  to  mine,  and  then  over 
my  shoulder  at  Jim,  who  had  remained  near  the  door, 
"Dr.  Bethel  said  that  if  he  had  any  doubts  as  to  his  case, 
he  should  telegraph  at  once  for  Dr.  Denham,  and  he  added 
that  he  knew  of  no  surgeon  more  skillful." 

Still  no  answer  from  Dr.  Hess. 

Jim  Long  came  forward  with  a  touch  of  his  old  impa- 
tience and  accustomed  quaintness  in  his  words  and  manner. 

"I'm  in  favor  of  the  city  doctor,"  he  said,  looking,  not 
at  Dr.  Hess,  but  straight  into  my  face.  "And  I'm  en- 
titled to  a  voice  in  the  matter.  The  patient's  mine  by 
right  of  discovery." 

Miss  Barnard  gave  him  a  quick  glance  of  gratitude,  and 
I  rallied  from  the  surprise  occasioned  by  the  mention  of 
"our  old  woman,"  to  say: 

"  I  think  you  said  that  this  gentleman  is  a  relative  of 
Dr.  Bethel's;  if  so,  he  should  be  sent  for  by  all  means." 

"He  is  Dr.  Bethel's  uncle,"  said  Miss  Barnard. 

"Then,"  I  repeated,  with  decision,  "as  a  relative  he  should 
be  sent  for  at  once." 

"Most  certainly,"  acquiesced  Dr.  Hess,  who  now  saw 


300  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

the  matter  in,  to  him,  a  more  favorable  light.  "  Send  for 
him;  the  sooner  the  better." 

" Oh,"  breathed  the  anxious  girl,  "I  wish  it  could  be 
done  at  once." 

"  It  can,"  I  said,  taking  my  hat  from  the  table  as  I  spoke. 
"  Fortunately  there  is  a  new  night  operator  at  the  station ; 
he  came  to-night,  or  was  expected.  If  he  is  there,  we  shall 
save  time,  if  not,  we  must  get  Harris  up." 

"  Oh,  thank  you." 

Dr.  Hess  went  to  take  a  look  at  his  patient,  and  came 
back,  saying : 

"I  will  remain  here  until  morning,  I  think." 

"And  I  will  come  back  as  soon  as  possible,"  I  responded, 
turning  to  go. 

Jim  Long  caught  up  his  hat  from  the  floor,  where  he 
had  flung  it  on  entering. 

"I  reckon  I  had  better  go  along  with  you,"  he  said,  sud- 
denly assuming  his  habitual  drawl ;  "you  may  have  to 
rout  Harris  up,  and  I  know  right  where  to  find  him." 

I  was  anxious  to  go,  for  a  reason  of  my  own,  and  I  was 
not  sorry  to  have  Jim's  company.  "  Now,  if  ever,"  I 
thought,  "is  the  time  to  fathom  'the  true  inwardness'  of 

o         * 

this  strange  man." 

We  waited  for  no  more  words,  but  set  out  at  once,  walk- 
ing briskly  through  the  night  that  seemed  doubly  dark, 
doubly  silent  and  mysterious,  at  the  witch's  hour  of  one 

•rj 

o'clock. 


JIM  LONG  SHOWS  HIS  HAJSTD.  301 

We  had  walked  half  the  distance  to  the  station,  in  per- 
fect silence,  and  I  was  studying  the  best  way  to  approach 
Jim  and  overcome  his  reticence,  when  suddenly  he  opened 
his  lips,  to  give  me  a  glimpse  of  his  "true  inwardness," 
that  nearly  took  me,  figuratively,  oif  my  feet. 

"  Men  are  only  men,  after  all,"  he  began,  sententiously, 
"and  detectives  are  only  common  men  sharpened  up  a  bit. 
I  wonder,  now,  how  you  are  going  to  get  the  address  of  this 
Dr.  Denham?" 

I  started  so  violently,  that  he  must  have  perceived  it, 
dark  though  it  was. 

What  a  blunder!  I  had  walked  away  from  the  cottage 
forgetting  to  ask  for  Dr.  Denham's  address. 

Uttering  an  exclamation  of  impatience,  I  turned  sharply 
about. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  he  asked. 

"I'm  going  back  after  the  address,  of  course." 

"  I  wouldn't  do  that ;  time's  precious.  Do  you  go  ahead 
and  send  the  message.  I'll  run  back  and  ask  after  the  ad- 
dress." 

"  Long,"  I  said,  sharply,  "  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"I  mean  this,"  he  replied,  his  tone  changing  suddenly. 
"  I  mean  that  it's  time  for  you  and  I  to  understand  each 
other!" 


302  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

IN  WHICH  I  TAKE  JIM  ON  TRUST. 

"It  is  time  for  you  aud  I  to  understand  each  other. 
Don't  stop  there  looking  moon-struck  !  Go  ahead,  and 
don't  waste  time.  I'll  run  back  and  ask  for  the  address. 
Miss  Barnard,  if  she  scented  a  secret,  might  be  trusted  with 
it.  But,  Dr.  Hess — his  brain  has  not  kept  pace  with  the 
steps  of  the  universe." 

With  these  remarkable  words,  Jim  Long  lowered  his 
head,  compressed  his  elbows  after  the  fashion  of  a  profes- 
sional prize-runner,  and  was  off  like  a  flying  shadow,  while 
I  stood  staring  after  him  through  the  darkness,  divided 
betwixt  wonder  at  his  strange  words  and  manner,  and  dis- 
gust at  my  own  stupidity. 

What  did  he  mean?  Had  he  actually  discovered  my 
identity?  And,  if  so,  how?" 

While  waiting  for  a  solution  to  these  riddles,  it  would  be 
well  to  profit  by  Jim's  advice.  So  I  turned  my  face  to- 
ward the  village,  and  hurried  forward. 

As  I  approached  the  station,  a  bright  light  from  the 
operator's  window  assured  me  that  I  should  not  find  the 
office  empty,  and  coming  stealthily  toward  it,  I  peered  in, 


IN  WHICH  I  TAKE  JIM  ON  TRUST.  303 

to  see,  seated  in  the  most  commodious  office  chair,  Gerald 
Brown,  of  our  agency,  the  expected  "night  operator." 

On  a  lounge  opposite  the  window,  lay  Charlie  Harris 
asleep. 

I  tipped  softly  on  the  open  casement,  and  keeping  my- 
self in  the  shadow  whispered: 

"Come  outside,  Gerry,  and  don't  wake  Harris." 

The  night-operator,  who  knew  the  nature  of  the  services 
required  of  him  in  Trafton,  and  who  doubtless  had  been  ex- 
pecting a  visit,  arose  quietly  and  came  out  on  the  platform 
with  the  stealthy  tread  of  a  bushman. 

After  a  cordial  hand-clasp,  and  a  very  few  words  of 
mutual  inquiry,  I  told  Brown  what  had  happened  at  the 
doctor's  cottage,  and  of  my  suspicions  regarding  Blake 
Simpson;  and,  then,  using  a  leaf  from  my  note-book,  and 
writing  by  the  light  from  the  window,  I  wrote  two  mes- 
sages, to  be  sent  before  Harris  should  awake. 

The  first  was  as  follows : 

DOCTOR  CHARLES  DENHAM, 

No.  300 street,  N.  Y. 

Carl  Bethel  is  in  extreme  danger;  requires  your  professional  ser- 
vices. Come  at  once.  BATHXJRST. 

The  second  was  addressed  to  our  office,  and  was  much 
longer.  It  ran  thus  : 

CAPT.  B.,  A ,  K  Y. 

Murder  was  attempted  last  night  ;  Bethel  the  victim.  See  that 
Denham  comes  by  the  first  train  to  attend  to  him.  Give  him  some 


304  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

hiu  Is  before  starting.    Look  out  for  B.  S.     If  he  returns  to  the  city 
iu  the  morning,  keep  him  shadowed.     Will  write  particulars. 

BATHURST. 

"There,"  I  said,  as  I  passed  them  to  Brown,  "send 
them  as  soon  as  you  can,  Gerry.  The  doctor  will  hardly 
receive  his  before  morning,  but  the  other  will  be  delivered 
at  once,  and  then  they  can  hurry  up  the  "  old  woman." 
As  for  Blake,  he  will  probably  take  the  morning  train,  if 
he  returns  to  the  city,  so  they  have  ample  time  to  prepare 
for  him.  Did  you  see  Games  on  the  express?" 

"Yes;  but  only  had  a  moment's  speech  with  him.  He 
told  me  to  tell  you  that  Blake  left  the  train  at  Ireton, 
and  that  he  went  straight  to  a  sort  of  feed  stable,  kept  by 
a  man  named  Brigg.s — " 

"Briggs!"  I  exclaimed,  involuntarily. 

"  Yes,  that  was  the  name.  At  this  stable  he  was  fur- 
nished with  a  good  team  and  light  buggy,  and  he  drove 
straight  south." 

"Ah!  he  did.  But  my  time  is  not  at  my  disposal  just 
now,  Gerry ;  I  have  a  companion  somewhere  on  the  road. 
I  suppose  you  got  the  bearings  of  this  Trafton  business  at 
the  Agency?" 

"Yes;  I  think  I  am  pretty  well  posted.  I  have  read 
all  your  reports." 

"  So  much  the  better.  Gerry,  you  had  better  take  up 
your  quarters  at  the  Trafton  House.  I  am  stopping  there. 
It  will  be  convenient,  for  more  than  one  reason." 


IN  WHICH  I  TAKE  JIM  TRUST.  305 

Gerry  agreed  with  me  in  this,  and,  as  at  that  moment  we 
heard  footsteps  approaching,  which  I  rightly  guessed  to  be 
those  of  Jim  Long,  we  separated  at  once,  and  I  went  for- 
ward to  meet  Jim. 

Before,  I  had  deemed  it  necessary  to  press  the  siege,  and 
lead  Jim  to  talk  by  beginning  the  attack  in  a  voluble 
manner.  Now,  I  was  equally  intent  upon  holding  my 
own  forces  in  reserve,  and  letting  him  open  the  engage- 
ment, which,  after  a  few  moments'  silence,  he  did. 

A  few  rods  away  from  the  depot  stood  a  church,  with 
broad,  high  steps  leading  up  from  the  street,  and  a  deep, 
old-fashioned  portico. 

Here  Jim  came  to  an  abrupt  halt,  for  we  had  turned  our 
steps  southward,  and  said,  with  more  of  courtesy  in  his 
voice  than  might  have  been  expected,  considering  his  re- 
cent abruptness : 

"  Let  us  go  up  there,  and  sit  under  the  porch.  It's 
safer  than  to  talk  while  walking,  and  I  fancy  you  would 
like  me  to  explain  myself." 

I  followed  him  in  silence  up  the  steps,  and  sat  down 
beside  him  on  the  portico. 

"I  wonder,"  began  Jim,  lowering  his  voice  to  insure 
himself  against  possible  eavesdroppers,  "I  wonder  why 
you  have  not  asked  me,  before  this  time,  how  it  happened 
that  I  was  the  first  to  discover  Bethel's  condition,  or,  at 
any  rate,  the  first  to  give  the  alarm." 

"  There  has  scarcely  been  time,"  I  replied,  guardedly. 
20 


306  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"Besides  I,  being  so  nearly  a  stranger,  thought  that  a 
question  to  be  more  properly  asked  by  Miss  Barnard  or 
the  doctor." 

"You  are  modest,"  said  Jim,  with  a  short  laugh. 
"Probably  it  will  not  occur  to  Miss  Barnard  to  ask  that 
question,  until  her  mind  is  more  at  ease  concerning  Bethel's 
condition.  As  for  Dr.  Hess,  he  had  asked  it  before  he 
took  off  his  nightcap." 

"And  did  you  answer  it,"  asked  I,  maliciously,  "in  the 
same  good  English  you  are  addressing  to  me?" 

"  I  hope  not,"  he  replied,  laughing  again.  "  I  told  him 
the  truth,  however,  in  a  very  few  words,  and  now  I  will 
tell  it  to  you.  Last  night — I  suppose  it  is  morning  now 
by  the  clock — I  spent  the  evening  in  the  village,  princi- 
pally about  the  Trafton  House.  I  presume  you  are  AVOII- 
dering  how  it  came  that  you  did  not  see  me  there,  for  I 
happen  to  know  that  you  spent  the  entire  evening  in  tlu> 
office  or  on  the  porch.  Well,  the  fact  is,  I  was  there  on  a 
little  private  business,  and  did  not  make  myself  very  con- 
spicuous for  that  reason.  It  was  late  when  I  came  home, 
and,  on  looking  about  the  cabin,  I  discovered  that  my  gun 
was  missing.  My  door,  for  various  reasons,  I  always  leave 
unlocked  when  absent,  so  I  did  not  waste  any  time  in  won- 
dering how  the  thief  got  in.  I  missed  nothing  else,  and, 
after  a  little,  I  went  outside  to  smoke,  and  think  the  mat- 
ter over.  I  had  not  been  out  many  minutes  before  I  heard 
the  report  of  a  gun, — my  gun,  I  could  have  sworn.  It 


IX  WHICH  I  TAKE  JIM   ON  TRUST.  307 

sounded  in  the  direction  of  Bethel's  cottage,  and  I  was  not 
many  minutes  in  getting  there.  I  found  the  door  open, 
and  Bethel  lying  across  the  threshold,  wounded,  as  you 
have  seen.  He  was  almost  unconscious  then,  but  as  I  bent 
above  him  he  whispered  one  word,  '  Louise.'  I  could  not 
leave  him  lying  there  in  the  doorway,  so  I  lifted  him  and 
carried  him  to  the  bed,  and  then,  seeing  that  it  was  a 
shoulder  wound,  and  that  he  still  breathed,  I  rushed  off, 
stopping  to  tell  Louise  Barnard  that  her  lover  was  wounded 
and,  maybe,  dying,  and  then  on  again  until  I  saw  you,  the 
very  man  whose  help  I  wanted." 

"And  why  my  help  rather  than  that  of  another?" 

"  Because,  next  to  that  of  a  physician,  the  presence  of  a 
detective  seemed  most  necessary." 

"Long,"  I  said,  turning  upon  him  sharply,  "this  is  the 
second  time  you  have  referred  to  me  as  '  a  detective.'  Will 
you  be  good  enough  to  explain  ?" 

"  I  have  spoken  of  you  as  a  detective,"  he  replied,  gravely, 
"because  I  believe  you  to  be  one,  and  have  so  believed  since 
the  day  you  came  to  Trafton.  To  explain  in  full  would 
be  to  occupy  more  time  than  you  or  I  can  well  spare  to 
story  telling.  I  have  watched  you  since  you  first  came  to 
this  place,  curiously  at  first,  then  earnestly,  then  anxiously. 
I  believe  you  are  here  to  ferret  out  the  authors  of  the  many 
robberies  that  have  happened  in  and  about  Trafton.  If 
this  is  so,  then  there  isnoone  more  anxious  to  help  you,orwho 
could  have  a  stronger  motive  for  so  doing,  than  Jim  Long." 


308  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  but  I  remained  silent,  and  he 
began  anew. 

"  I  think  you  are  interested  in  Bethel  and  his  misfortunes. 
I  think  you  know  him  for  the  victim  of  those  who  believe 
him  to  be  what  you  really  are." 

"You  think  there  are  those  who  fear  Bethel  because 
they  believe  him  to  be  a  detective  ?  Is  that  your  meaning?'' 

"That  is  my  meaning." 

"Long,"  I  said,  seriously,  "you  tell  me  that  your  gun 
was  stolen  last  night;  that  you  recognized  the  sound  of  the 
report  coming  from  the  direction  of  Bethel's  house." 

He  moved  closer  to  me  and  laid  a  hand  on  my  shoulder. 

"It  was  my  gun  that  shot  Bethel,"  he  said,  solemnly. 
"  To-morrow  that  gun  will  be  found  and  7  shall  be  accused 
of  the  crime.  If  the  devils  had  possessed  my  knowledge, 
it  would  have  been  you,  instead  of  Carl  Bethel,  lying  some- 
where now,  dying  or  dead.  I  say  these  things  to  you  to- 
night because,  if  my  gun  is  found,  as  I  anticipate,  and  I 
am  accused  of  the  shooting,  I  may  not  be  able  to  serve  Carl 
Bethel,  and  he  is  n.ot  yet  out  of  danger.  If  he  lives  he  will 
still  be  a  target  for  his  enemies." 

He  spoke  with  suppressed  emotion,  and  my  own  feel- 
ings were  stirred  as  I  replied  : 

"  Long,  you  have  been  a  mystery  to  me  from  the  first, 
and  I  do  not  read  your  riddle  even  now,  but  I  believe  you 
are  a  man  to  be  trusted.  Give  me  your  hand,  and  depend 
upon  it  you  shall  not  rest  long  under  a  false  accusation. 


IN  WHICH  I  TAKE  JIM  ON  TRUST.  309 

Carl  Bethel,  liviDg,  shall  not  want  a  friend;  Carl  Bethel, 
dead,  shall  have  an  avenger.  As  for  you,  and  myself — " 

"We  shall  understand  each  other  better,"  he  broke  in, 
"  when  the  time  comes  for  me  to  tell  you  my  own  story 
in  my  own  way." 

"Then,"  I  said,  "let  us  go  back  to  Bethel.  I  want  to 
take  a  look  about  the  premises  by  the  first  streak  of  day- 
light." 

"Ah!"  ejaculated  Jim,  "that  is  what  I  wanted  to  hear 
you  say." 


310  THE  TRAIL  OF   THE  ASSASSIN. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  ASSASSIN. 

During  the  night  there  was  little  change  in  Bethel's  con- 

O  o  o 

dition,  and  in  the  gray  of  dawn  Miss  Barnard  went  reluc- 
tantly home,  having  been  assured  by  the  doctor  that  the 
patient  was  in  no  immediate  danger,  and,  by  Jim  and  my- 
self, converted  to  the  belief  that  he  might  be  safely  trusted 
for  a  short  time  to  our  care." 

A  little  later,  with  the  first  clear  light  of  the  dawn,  I  left 
Jim  on  guard  at  the  bedside,  and  went  to  take  a  survey  of 
the  premises. 

I  was  not  long  in  convincing  myself  that  there  was  little 
to  be  discovered  outside,  and  returning  to  the  house  seated 
myself  in  Bethel's  easy-chair. 

"Lon^,"  I  caLed  softly, — somehow  since  last  night 
I  could  not  bring  myself  to  use  the  familiar  "Jim,"  as  of 
old. 

He  came  from  the  inner  room  looking  a  mute  in- 
quiry. 

"Long,  you  had  ought  to  know  something  about  your 
own  gun;  was  that  wound  of  Bethel's  made  at  long  or 
short  range?" 


OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH.  311 

He  looked  surprised  at  first,  then  a  gleam  of  intelligence 
leaped  to  his  eyes. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  short  range?"  he  asked. 

"Suppose  Bethel  to  have  stood  on  the  steps  outside,  was 
the  gun  fired  from  behind  that  evergreen  just  beyond,  and 
close  to  the  gravel  walk,  or  from  some  other  point  equally 
distant?" 

He  opened  the  door  and  glanced  out  at  the  tree,  seeming 
to  measure  the  distance  with  his  eye. 

"It  was  further  away,"  he  said,  after  a  moment's  reflec- 
tion. "  If  the  scoundrel  had  stood  as  you  suggest,  the  inuz- 
zle  of  the  gun  would  have  been  almost  at  Bethel's  breast. 
The  powder  would  have  scorched  his  clothing  and  his 
flesh." 

"  Do  you  think  it  may  have  been  fired  from  the  gate,  or 
a  few  feet  beyond  it?" 

"Judging  by  the  appearance  of  the  wound,  I  should  say 
it  must  have  been  from  a  little  beyond  the  gate." 

"  I  think  so  too,"  I  said.  "  I  think  some  one  drove  to 
the  gate  last  night  with  a  light  buggy,  and  two  small  horses. 
Pie  or  they  drove  quite  close  to  the  fence  and  stopped  the 
horses,  so  that  they  were  hidden  from  the  view  of  any  one 
who  was  nearer  the  house.  The  buggy  was  directly  before 
the  gate  and  so  close  that  it  could  not  have  been  opened,  as 
it  swings  outward.  The  horses  were  not  tied,  but  they  were 
doubtless  well  trained  animals.  A  man  jumped  out  of  the 
buggy,  and,  standing  beside  it,  on  the  side  farthest  from 


31 2  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  ASSASSIN. 

the  gate,  of  course,  leveled  your  gun  across  the  vehicle  and 
called  aloud  for  the  doctor.  Bethel  was  alone,  sitting  in 
this  chair  by  this  table.  His  feet  were  on  this  footstool/' 
touching  each  article  as  I  named  it.  "  He  was  smoking  this 
pipe,  and  reading  this  book.  The  window  was  open,  and 
the  blinds  only  half  closed.  The  man,  who  probably  drove 
close  to  the  fence  for  that  purpose,  could  see  him  quite 
distinctly,  and  from  his  attitude  and  occupation  knew  him 
to  be  alone. 

"When  Bethel  heard  the  call,  he  put  down  the  book  and 
pipe  with  cool  deliberation,  pushed  back  the  footstool  and 
opened  the  door,  coming  from  the  light  to  the  darkness. 
At  that  moment  he  could  see  nothing,  and  leaving  the  door 
open  he  stepped  outside,  standing  clearly  outlined  in  the 
light  from  within.  Then  the  assassin  fired." 

Jim  Long  came  toward  me,  his  eyes  earnestly  searching 
my  face. 

"  In  Heaven's  name,  what  foundation  have  you  for  such 
a  theory,"  he  asked,  slowly. 

"  Excellent  foundation,"  I  replied.  "  Let  us  demonstrate 
my  theory." 

Long  glanced  at  his  charge  in  the  inner  room,  and  then 
said,  "  go  on." 

"Suppose  me  to  be  Bethel,"  I  said,  leaning  back  in  the 
big  chair.  "That  window  is  now  just  as  it  was  last  night, 
I  take  it?" 

"Just  the  same." 


"When  Bethel  heard  the  call,  he  put  down  the  book  and  pipe 
with  cool  deliberation,  pushed  back  the  footstool  and  opened  the 
door," — page  312. 

*14  313 


THE  TRAIL  OP  THE  ASSASSIN.  315 

"  "Well,  if  you  choose  to  go  outside  and  walk  beside  the 
fence,  you  will  be  able  to  decide  whether  I  could  be  seen 
as  I  have  stated." 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  said : 

"Wait;  I'll  try  it;"  and  opened  the  door. 

"Long,"  I  whispered,  as  he  passed  out,  "keep  this  side 
of  the  fence." 

"Yes." 

He  was  back  in  a  moment. 

"I  can  see  you  plainly,"  he  said. 

"  And,  of  course,  with  a  light  within  and  darkness  out- 
side you  could  see  me  still  more  plainly." 

"I  suppose  so,"  he  assented. 

"Now  for  the  second  test.  I  hear  my  name  called,  I 
lay  aside  my  book  and  meerschaum,  push  back  my  foot- 
rest,  and  go  to  the  door.  I  can  see  nothing  as  I  open  it," 
I  was  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  "  so  I  fling  it  wide 
open,  and  step  outside.  Now,  Long,  that  spot  of  blood 
tells  me  just  about  the  location  of  Bethel's  head  when  you 
discovered  him.  Will  you  point  out  the  spot  where  his 
feet  rested?" 

Long  considered  a  moment  and  then  laid  two  fingers  on 
the  step. 

"  There,  as  nearly  as  I  can  remember,"  he  said. 

I  planted  my  own  feet  on  the  spot  indicated  by 
him. 

"  Now,  please  go  to  the  gate.     Go  outside  of  it.     There 


316  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

are  some  bits  of  paper  scattered  about ;  do  not  step  whera 
you  see  any  of  these." 

He  obeyed  my  directions,  striding  over  and  around  the 
marked  places. 

"Now,"  I  called,  retaining  my  position  on  the  door-step, 
"  step  about  four  feet  from  the  gate,  and  from  that  dis- 
tance how  must  you  stand  to  take  aim  at  me,  on  this  spot?" 

He  shifted  his  position  a  trifle,  went  through  the  motion 
of  taking  aim,  looking  down  at  his  feet,  then  dropped  his 
arms,  and  said : 

"  I  can't  do  it ;  to  aim  at  you  there,  I  would  have  to 
stand  just  where  you  have  left  some  bits  of  paper.  In  any 
other  position  the  bushes  obstruct  the  sight." 

I  came  down  to  the  gate  and  swung  it  open. 

"  Just  what  I  wanted  to  establish.  Now  for  the  next 
test,"  I  said.  "  Mark  me,  Long;  do  you  see  those  bits  of 
paper  along  the  fence  ?  Go  and  look  at  the  ground,  where 
they  lie,  and  you  will  see  the  faint  impression  of  a  wheel. 
Just  before  the  gate  where  the  vehicle  stood  for  a  moment, 
the  print  is  deeper,  and  more  easily  noticed.  I  said  that 
the  gun  was  fired  across  the  buggy;  you  have  convinced 
yourself  that  aim  could  be  taken  from  only  one  position, 
at  this  distance.  The  man  must  stand  where  those  bits  of 
paper  are  scattered.  Now,  look;"  I  bent  down  and 
gathered  up  the  fragments  of  paper ;  "  look  close.  Here 
is  a  fine,  free  imprint  from  the  heel  of  a  heavy  boot.  As 
there  is  but  one,  and  that  so  marked,  it  is  reasonable  to 


THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  ASSASSIN.  317 

suppose  that  the  assassin  rested  one  foot  upon  the  buggy 
wheel,  thus  throwing  his  weight  upon  this  heel." 

Long  bent  to  examine  the  print  and  then  lifted  his  head 
to  ejaculate : 

"  It  is  wonderful !" 

"It  is  simplicity  itself,"  I  replied ;  "the  a,  b,  c  of  the 
detective's  alphabet.  I  said  there  were  two  horses ;  look, 
here  is  where  one  of  them  scraped  the  fence  with  his  teeth, 
and  here  the  other  has  snatched  a  mouthful  of  leaves  from 
the  doctor's  young  shade  tree.  Here,  too,  are  some  faint, 
imperfect  hoof-prints,  but  they  are  enough  to  tell  us,  from 
their  position,  that  there  were  two  horses,  and  from  their 
size,  that  the  animals  were  pretty  small." 

Long  examined  the  different  marks  with  eager  attention, 
and  then  stood  gazing  fixedly  at  me,  while  I  gathered  up 
my  bits  of  paper. 

"  I  shall  not  try  to  preserve  these  as  evidence  in  the 
case,"  I  said.  "  I  think  we  shall  do  very  well  without 
them.  They  were  marked  for  your  benefit,  solely.  Are 
you  convinced?" 

"  Convinced  !  Yes,  convinced  and  satisfied  that  you  are 
the  man  for  this  business." 

We  returned  to  the  house,  each  intent  on  his  own 
thoughts. 

The  sun  was  rising  in  a  cloudless  sky.  It  would  not  be 
long  before  curious  visitors  would  be  thronging  the  cottage. 
After  a  time  I  went  to  the  door  of  the  room  where  Jim  had 
resumed  his  watch. 


318  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"Long,"  I  asked,  in  a  low  tone,  "do  you  know  any 
person  in  Ireton?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Do  you  know  whether  this  fellow  Tom  Briggs  has  any 
relatives  about  Trafton?" 

He  pondered  a  moment. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  finally.  "He  has  a  brother  somewhere 
in  the  neighborhood.  I  dont  know  just  where.  He  comes 
to  Trafton  occasionally." 

"What  is  he  like?" 

"He  is  not  unlike  Tom,  but  goes  rather  better  dressed." 

"Do  you  know  his  occupation?" 

"A  sort  of  horse-trading  character,  I  think." 

I  considered  for  a  time,  and  then  resumed  :v.y  catechism. 

"Among  the  farmers  whose  horses  have  been  stolen,  do 
you  know  one  who  is  thoroughly  shrewd,  cautious  and  re- 
liable?" 

"I  think  so,"  after  a  moment's  reflection.  "I  think 
Mr.  Warren  is  such  a  man." 

"  Where  can  he  be  found  ?" 

"He  lives  five  miles  northwest  of  Trafton." 

"  If  you  wished  to  organize  a  small  band  of  regulators,  say 
six  or  eight,  where  could  you  find  the  right  men,  and  how 
soon?" 

"  I  should  look  for  them  among  the  farmers.  I  think 
they  could  be  organized,  for  the  right  purpose,  in  half  a 
day's  ride  about  the  country." 


THE  TKAIL,  OF   THE  ASSASSIN.  319 

As  my  lips  parted  to  launch  another  question,  the  outer 
door  opened  slowly  and  almost  noiselessly,  and  Louise  Bar- 
nard brushed  past  me  and  hurried  to  the  bedside. 

"  .Miss  Barnard—" 

"  Don't  lecture  me,  please,"  she  said,  hurriedly.  "  Mamma 
is  better  and  could  spare  me,  and  I  could  not  sleep.  I 
have  taken  a  cordial,  and  some  food.  You  must  let  me 
stay  on  guard  until  Dr.  Denham  arrives.  I  will  resign 
my  post  to  him." 

"Which  means  that  you  will  not  trust  to  us.  You  are 
a  '  willful  woman,'  Miss  Barnard,  and  your  word  is  our  law, 
of  course.  There  is  actually  nothing  to  do  here  just  now 
but  to  sit  at  the  bedside  and  watch  our  patient.  And  so, 
if  you  will  occupy  that  post,  Long  and  myself  will  take  a 
look  at  things  out  of  doors." 

She  took  her  seat  by  the  bedside,  and,  beckoning  Jim  to 
follow  me,  I  went  out,  and,  turning  to  see  that  he  was  close 
behind  me,  walked  to  the  rear  of  the  house. 

Here  we  seated  ourselves  upon  the  well  platform,  where 
Jim  had  once  before  stationed  himself  to  watch  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  raiding  party,  and  for  a  full  half-hour  re- 
mained in  earnest  consultation. 

At  the  end  of  that  time,  Jim  Long  saddled  and  bridled 
the  doctor's  horse,  led  him  softly  from  the  yard,  mounted, 
and  rode  swiftly  away  to  the  northwest. 


320  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

AN   ANGRY  HEIRESS. 

Very  soon  after  Jim's  departure,  the  first  visitors  arrived 
at  the  cottage,  and  most  welcome  ones  they  were. 

Miss  Barnard,  who  seemed  capable  of  wise  thought  in 
the  midst  of  her  grief  and  anxiety,  had  dispatched  her  own 
servant  with  a  message  to  Mr.  Harris,  and,  early  as  was 
the  hour,  that  good  man  had  hastened  to  the  cottage,  with 
his  wife  at  his  side.  Their  presence  wras  comforting  to  Miss 
Barnard  and  myself.  Mr.  Harris  was  the  right  man  to  as- 
sume responsibilities,  which  I,  for  various  reasons,  had  no 
desire  to  take  upon  myself,  and  Mrs.  Harris  was  the  very 
companion  and  assistant  needed  by  the  anxious  girl.  They 
were  soon  in  possession  of  all  the  facts,  as  we  knew  them, 
concerning  the  previous  night,  and  its  calamity. 

I  say,  as  we  knew  them;  Miss  Barnard  had  heard  noth- 
ing concerning  the  part  Jim's  gun  was  believed  to  have 
played  in  the  sad  affair,  and  I  did  not  think  it  necessary  to 
enlighten  either  her  or  Mr.  Harris  on  that  subject,  at  that 
time. 

Leaving  Bethel  in  such  good  hands,  I  went  back  to  the 
hotel.  But  before  I  could  breakfast  or  rest,  I  was  called 


AX  ANGRY  HEIRESS.  321 

upon  to  repeat  again  and  again  all  that  I  could  or  would 
tell  concerning  this  new  calamity  that  had  befallen  Dr. 
Bethel,  for  the  news  of  the  night  was  there  before  me. 

As  I  re-entered  the  office,  after  quitting  the  breakfast 
table,  I  found  a  considerable  crowd  assembled,  and  was 
again  called  upon  to  rehearse  my  story. 

"  It  looks  sorter  queerish  to  me,"  commented  a  hook- 
nosed old  Traftonite,  who  had  listened  very  intently  to  my 
words.  "It's  sorter  queerish!  Why  warn't  folks  told  of 
this  sooner?  Why  warn't  the  alarm  given,  so'at  citizens 
could  agone  and  seen  for  theirselves  how  things  was?" 

I  recognized  the  speaker  as  one  who  had  been  boister- 
ously and  vindictively  active  on  the  day  of  the  raid  upon 
Bethel's  cottage,  and  I  fixed  my  eye  upon  his  face  with  a 
look  which  he  seemed  to  comprehend,  as  I  retorted: 

"  Dr.  Bethel  has  received  one  visit  from  a  delegation  of 
'citizens  who  were  desirous  to  see  for  theirselves  how  things 
was,'  and  if  he  suffered  no  harm  from  it,  it  was  not  owing 
to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  'citizens'  aforesaid.  The  at- 
tendance of  a  mob  last  night  would  not  have  benefited 
Bethel.  What  he  needed  was  a  doctor  and  good  nursing. 
These  he  had  and  will  have,"  and  I  turned  upon  my  heel 
to  leave  the  room. 

"  I  should  say,"  spoke  up  another  voice,  "  that  there  was 
a  detective  needed  around  there,  too." 

"  Nothing  shall  be  lacking  that  is  needed,"  I  retorted, 
over  my  shoulder,  and  then  ascended  the  stairs,  wishing 

21 


322  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

heartily,  as  I  entered  my  room,  that  Trafton  and  a  large 
majority  of  its  inhabitants  were  safely  buried  under  an 
Alpine  avalanche. 

Two  hours  later  I  awoke,  and  being  in  a  more  amiable 
mood,  felt  less  inclined  to  consign  all  Trafton  to  annihila- 
tion. 

Going  below  I  found  the  office  comparatively  quiet,  and 
Dimber  Joe  and  the  new  operator  socially  conversing  on 
the  porch. 

Gerald's  presence  was  a  relief  to  me.  I  felt  sure  that  he 
would  keep  a  sharp  eye  upon  the  movements  of  Dimber, 
and,  being  anxious  about  the  situation  of  Bethel  I  returned 
to  the  cottage. 

Dr.  Hess  stood  in  the  door-way,  in  conversation  with 
Mr.  Harris. 

"How  is  the  patient?"  asked  I,  approaching  them. 

"Much  the  same,"  replied  the  doctor.  "But  there  will 
be  a  change  soon." 

"Has  he  spoken?" 

"  No ;  he  will  hardly  do  that  yet,  and  should  not  be  al- 
lowed to  talk  even  if  he  could.  When  the  change  comes 
there  will  be  fever,  and  perhaps  delirium." 

I  passed  them  and  entered  the  sick-room. 

Mrs.  Harris  sat  by  the  bed.  Louise  Barnard  was  not 
there. 

"We  have  sent  Louise  home,"  Mrs.  Harris  whispered, 
seeing  me  glance  about  inquiringly.  "The  doctor  told  her 


AN  ANGRY  HEIRESS.  323 

that  if  she  insisted  upon  remaining  she  would  soon  be  sick 
herself,  and  unable  to  help  us  at  all.  That  frightened  her 
a  little.  The  poor  child  is  really  worn  out,  with  her 
father's  sickness  and  death,  her  mother's  poor  health,  and 
now  this,"  nodding  toward  the  bed. 

"Have  you  had  any  visitors?" 

"Oh,  yes.  But  we  knew  that  the  house  must  be  kept 
quiet,  and  Mr.  Harris  has  received  the  most  of  them  out 
in  the  yard.  Dr.  Hess  says  it  will  be  best  to  admit  none 
but  personal  friends." 

"Dr.  Hess  is  very  sensible." 

Going  back  to  join  the  two  gentlemen,  I  saw  that  Dr. 
Hess  was  hastening  toward  the  gate  with  considerable 
alacrity,  and  that  a  pony  phaeton  had  just  halted  there. 

Swinging  the  gate  wide  open,  the  doctor  assisted  the  oc- 
cupant to  alight. 

It  was  Miss  Manvers. 

There  was  an  anxious  look  upon  her  face,  and  in  her 
eyes  a  shadow  of  what  I  had  once  discovered  there,  when, 
myself  unseen,  I  had  witnessed  her  interview  with  Arch 
Brookhouse  on  the  day  of  the  garden  party.  She  was  pale, 
and  exceedingly  nervous. 

She  said  very  little.  Indeed  her  strongest  effort  to  pre- 
serve her  self-control  seemed  almost  a  failure,  and  was  very 
evident  to  each  of  us.  She  listened  with  set  lips  to  the 
doctor's  description  and  opinion  of  the  case,  and  then 
entered  the  inner  room,  and  stood  looking  down  at  the 


324  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

figure  lying  there,  so  stalwart,  yet  so  helpless.  For  a  mo- 
ment her  features  were  convulsed,  and  her  hands  clenched 
each  other  fiercely.  Her  form  was  shaken  with  emotion 
so  strong  as  to  almost  overmaster  her.  It  was  a  splendid 
picture  of  fierce  passion  held  in  check  by  an  iron  will. 

She  came  out  presently,  and  approached  me. 

"You  were  one  of  the  first  to  know  this,  I  am  told," 
she  said,  in  a  low,  constrained  tone.  "Please  tell  me 
about  it." 

I  told  her  how  I  was  called  to  the  rescue  by  Jim,  and 
gave  a  brief  outline  of  after  events. 

"  And  has  all  been  done  that  can  be  ?"  she  asked,  after 
a  moment  of  silence. 

"  Not  quite  all,  Miss  Manvers.  We  have  yet  to  find 
this  would-be  murderer  and  bring  him  to  justice."  I  spoke 
with  my  eyes  fixed  on  her  face. 

She  started,  flushed,  and  a  new  excited  eagerness  leaped 
to  her  eyes. 

"  Will  you  do  that  ?     Can  you  ?" 

"  It  shall  be  done,"  I  replied,  still  watching  her  face. 

She  gave  a  little  fluttering  sigh,  drew  her  veil  across  her 
arm,  and  turned  to  go. 

"  If  I  can  be  of  service,  in  any  way,"  she  began,  hesi- 
tatingly. 

"  We  shall  not  hesitate  to  ask  for  your  services,"  1  in- 
terrupted, walking  beside  her  to  the  door,  and  from  thenj|? 
to  the  gate,  a  little  to  the  annoyance  of  Dr.  Hess,  I  fancied. 


AN  ANGRY  HEIRESS.  325 

As  I  assisted  her  to  her  seat  in  the  phaeton,  and  put  the 
reins  in  her  hands,  I  saw  Arch  Brookhouse  galloping  rap- 
idly from  the  direction  of  town.  And,  just  as  she  had 
turned  her  ponies  homeward,  and  I  paused  at  the  gate  to 
nod  a  final  good-bye,  he  reined  his  horse  up  sharply  beside 
her  vehicle. 

"How  is  the  doctor,  Adele?"  he  asked,  in  a  tone  evi- 
dently meant  for  my  ears.  • 

"  Don't  speak  to  me,"  she  replied,  vehemently,  and  ut- 
terly regardless  of  my  proximity.  "  Don't  speak  to  me. 
I  wish  it  were  you  in  his  place."  , 

She  snatched  up  her  whip,  as  though  her  first  instinct 
was  to  draw  the  lash  across  his  face,  but  she  struck  the 
ponies  instead,  and  they  flew  up  the  hill  at  a  reckless  gait. 

As  Brookhouse  turned  in  the  saddle  to  look  after  the 
flying  phaeton,  I  saw  a  dark  frown  cross  his  face. 

But  the  next  instant  his  brow  cleared,  and  he  turned 
again  to  bestow  on  me  a  look  of  sharp  scrutiny. 

Springing  from  his  horse,  and  throwing  the  bridle  across 
his  arm,  he  approached  the  gate. 

"Did  you  hear  her?"  he  exclaimed.  "That  is  what  I 
get  for  being  an  amiable  fellow.  My  friend  is  not  amiable 
to-day." 

"  Evidently  not,"  I  responded,  carelessly.  "  Lovers' 
quarrels  are  fierce  affairs,  but  very  fleeting." 

He  smiled  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  have  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  offend  her,"  he  said. 


326  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"  By  to-morrow  she  will  have  forgotten  the  circumstances." 

"  Will  she,  indeed  ?"  thought  I.  "  We  shall  see,  my 
friend." 

But  I  made  no  audible  comment,  and  he  dismissed  the 
subject  to  ask  the  stereotyped  questions,  "  How  was  Dr. 
Bethel?  Could  he  be  of  any  service?  How  did  it 
happen?" 

While  I  was  answering  these  questions  with  the  best 
grace  I  could  muster,  there  came  the  patter  of  horse's 
hoofs,  and  Jim  Long  rode  up  to  the  side  gate,  dismounted 
with  a  careless  swing,  nodded  to  me,  and,  opening  the  gate, 
led  the  doctor's  horse  stableward. 

The  look  of  surprise  on  my  companion's  face  was  in- 
stantly followed  by  a  malicious  smile,  which,  in  its  turn, 
was  banished  to  give  place  to  a  more  proper  expression. 

"  Long  has  been  giving  the  doctor's  horse  some  exercise," 
he  said,  half  inquiringly. 

"  I  believe  he  has  been  executing  some  commission  for 
Miss  Barnard,"  I  fabricated,  unblushingly.  "  Long  has 
been  very  useful  here." 

"  Indeed,"  carelessly ;  then  glancing  at  his  watch,  "  nearly 
noon,  I  see." 

He  turned,  vaulted  into  his  saddle,  and  touched  his  hat. 
"Good-morning.  In  case  of  necessity,  command  me;" 
and  with  a  second  application  of  his  finger-tip  to  the  brim 
of  his  hat,  he  shook  the  reins  and  cantered  away. 

As  soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight  I  went  straight  to  the 


AN  ANGKY  HEIRESS.  527 

stable  where  Jim  was  bountifully  feeding  the  tired  horse. 

"Well,  Long?" 

"  It's  all  right,  captain.     I've  had  a  hard  ride,  but  it's 
done." 

"And  the  men?" 

"  Will  be  at  the  cabin  to-night." 


328  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

JIM   GIVES    BAIL. 

Upon  Jim's  reappearance  in  the  cottage,  Mrs.  Harris  in- 
stalled him  as  nurse,  and,  herself,  set  about  improvising  a 
kitchen  in  the  rear  room. 

Mr.  Harris  had  been  despatched  to  town  for  sundry 
articles,  and,  at  noon,  we  were  served  with  a  plentiful  lunch, 
of  which  we  partook  in  rather  primitive  fashion. 

Not  long  after,  while  Jim  and  I  were  conversing  out 
under  the  trees,  and  Mr.  Harris  was  discoursing  to  two 
Trafton  ladies  who  had  called  to  proffer  service  and  sym- 
pathy, I  saw  Gerald  Brown  coming  toward  the  cottage, 
and  guessing  that  his  real  business  was  with  me,  whatever 
pretext  he  might  present,  I  advanced  to  the  gate  and  met 
him  there. 

He  carried  in  his  hand  a  telegraph  envelope,  which  he 
proffered  me  ostentatiously  over  the  gate. 

I  opened  it  and  read : 

N.  Y.,  etc.,  etc. 

Will  come  to-night.  DENHAM. 

Underneath  this  was  written : 

They  are  wild  in  town;  are  about  to  arrest  Jim  Long  for  the  shoot- 
ing of  Bethd. 


JIM  (JIVES  BAIL.  !j29 

Two  pair  of  eyes,  at  least,  were  looking  out  from  the 
cottage  door  and  window. 

I  turned  the  message  over,  and  resting  it  upon  the  gate 
post,  wrote  the  following  : 

Don't  lose  sight  of  Dimber;  telegraph  to  the  Agency  to  ask  if  Blake 
h/is  arrived.  Tell  them  not  to  let  him  get  out  of  reach.  We  may  want 
him  at  any  moment. 

While  I  was  writing  this  Gerry  shifted  his  position,  so 
that  his  face  could  not  be  seen  by  the  observers  in  the  house, 
and  said  : 

"Dimber  is  in  it.     He  claims  to  have  seen  Lonjr  with 

o 

his  gun  near  Bethel's  house  last  night.  The  gun  has  been 
found." 

"Of  course,"  I  returned.  "We  will  put  a  muzzle  on 
friend  Dimber  very  shortly." 

I  refolded  the  message  and  returned  it  to  Gerry,  who 
touched  his  hat  and  turned  back  toward  the  village. 

Going  to  the  door  of  the  cottage,  I  informed  Mr.  Harris 
and  the  ladies  that  the  new  operator  had  just  brought  the 
news  we  so  much  wished  for,  viz.  :  the  coming  of  Bethel's 
uncle  from  New  York  by  that  night's  express.  Then, 
sauntering  back  to  my  old  place  under  the  trees,  I  com- 
municated to  Jim  the  purport  of  the  postscript  written  by 
Gerry. 

He  listened  attentively,  but  with  no  sign  of  discompos- 
ure visible  upon  his  countenance. 

"I've  had  time  to  think  the  matter  over,"  he  said,  after 


330  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

a  moment's  silence,  "and  I  think  I  shall  pull  through,  but," 
with  a  waggish  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "I  am  puzzled  to  know 
why  that  young  man  going  up  the  hill  should  take  so  much 
interest  in  me,  or  was  it  Harris?" 

"  It  was  not  Harris,"  returning  his  look  with  interest. 
"That  young  man  going  up  the  hill  is  Gerald  Brown,  of 
New  York.  He's  the  new  night  operator,  and  he  will  not 
fail  to  do  his  duty,  in  the  office  and  out  of  it." 

"Ah!"  ejaculated  Jim,  turning  his  eyes  once  more  to- 
ward the  receding  form  of  Gerry. 

I  let  my  o\vn  gaze  follow  his  and  there,  just  coming  into 
sight  on  the  brow  of  the  hill,  was  a  party  of  men. 

It  consisted  of  the  constable,  supported  by  several  able- 
bodied  citizens,  and  followed,  of  course,  by  a  promiscuous 
rabble. 

Jim  gave  vent  to  a  low  chuckle. 

"See  the  idiots,"  he  said,  "coming  like  mountain  ban- 
dits. No  doubt  they  look  for  fierce  resistance.  Don't 
let  them  think  you  are  too  much  interested  in  the  case." 

"I  won't,"  I  said,  briefly,  for  the  men  were  hurrying 
down  the  hill.  "  It  would  not  be  politic,  but  I'll  have 
you  out  of  their  clutches,  Long,  without  a  scratch,  sure 
and  soon." 

I  turned  toward  the  house  as  I  finished  the  sentence,  and 
Jim  arose  and  went  toward  the  gate;  not  the  man  of  easy 
movements  and  courteous  speech  who  had  been  my  compan- 
ion for  the  past  twenty-four  hours,  not  Long,  the  gentleman, 


JIM  GIVES  BAIL.  331 

but  "Long  Jim,"  the  loafer,  awkward,  slouching,  uncouth 
of  manner  and  speech. 

As  the  crowd  made  a  somewhat  noisy  approach,  Jim  leaned 
over  the  gate  and  motioned  them  to  silence. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  seriously,  "ye  can't  be  any  too 
still  about  this  place,  an'  ye'd  a'  showed  better  gumption 
if  ye  hadn't  paid  yer  respects  in  a  squad,  as  if  ye  was  comin' 
to  a  hangin'.  Somehow  ye  seem  mighty  fond  o'  waitin'  on 
Dr.  Bethel  in  a  gang." 

Acting  upon  a  hint  from  me,  Mr.  Harris  now  went  out, 
and  in  milder  words,  but  with  much  the  same  meaning,  ex- 
horted the  visitors  to  quiet. 

And  then,  casting  a  quick  glance  behind  him,  and  a 
somewhat  apprehensive  one  toward  Jim,  the  constable  read 
liis  warrant.  The  two  men  inside  the  gate  listened  with 
astonished  faces.  Indeed,  Jim's  assumption  of  amazement, 
viewed  in  the  light  of  my  knowledge  concerning  its  genuine- 
ness, was  ludicrous  beyond  description. 

Mr.  Harris  began  an  earnest  expostulation,  and  turned 
to  beckon  me  to  his  assistance,  but  Jim  checked  him  by  a 
gesture. 

"A\re  can't  have  any  disputing  here,"  he  said,  sharply. 
"Don't  argy,  parson;  tain't  wuth  while." 

Then  he  opened  the  gate  and  stepped  suddenly  out  among 
them. 

"I'll  go  with  ye,"  he  said,  "for  the  sake  of  peace. 
But,"  glaring  about  him  fiercely,  "  if  it  wan't  fer  makin' 


332  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

a  disturbance,  again  th'}  doctor's  orders,  I'd  take  ye  one  at 
a  time  and  thrash  a  little  sense  into  ye.  Come  along,  Mr. 
Constable;  I'm  goin'  to  '  pear'  afore  Jestice  Summers,  an' 
I'm  goin'  to  walk  right  to  the  head  o'  this  mob  o'  your'n, 
an'  don't  ye  try  to  come  none  o'  yer  jailer  dodges  over  me. 
Ye  kin  all  walk  behind,  an'  welcome,  but  (he  first  man  as 
undertakes  to  lay  a  finger  on  me,  or  step  along-side — 
somethin'll  happen  to  him." 

And  Jim  thrust  his  hands  deep  down  in  his  pockets, 
walked  coolly  through  the  group,  which  divided  to  let  him 
pass,  and  strode  off  up  the  hill. 

"Goodness!"  ejaculated  the  valorous  officer  of  the  law, 
"  is — is  there  a  man  here  that's  got  a  pistol  ?" 

No  reply  from  his  supporters. 

I  put  my  hand  behind  me  and  produced  a  small  re- 
volver. 

"Take  this,"  I  said,  proffering  the  weapon  over  the  gate. 
"  You  had  better  humor  his  whim,  but  if  he  attempts  to 
escape,  you  know  how  to  stop  him." 

He  seized  the  protecting  weapon,  nodded  his  thanks,  and 
hastened  after  his  prisoner,  followed  by  the  entire  body 
guard. 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Harris,  gravely,  "I  was  sorry 
to  see  you  do  that.  You  surely  don't  think  Long  guilty  ?" 

I  turned  towrard  him,  no  longer  trying  to  conceal  my 
amusement. 

"  He  is  as  innocent  as  you  or  I,"  I  replied,  "  and  the 


"Goodness!"  ejaculated  the  valorous  officer  of  the  law,  "is — is 
there  a  man  here  that's  got  a  pistol ?"— pnge  332. 

333 


JIM  GIVES  BAIL.  335 

pidtol  is  not  loaded.     One  may  as  well  retain  the  good  will 
of  the  magnates  of  the  law,  Mr.  Harris." 

He  smiled  in  his  turn,  and,  wishing  to  avoid  a  discus- 
sion, in  which  I  must  of  necessity  play  a  very  hypocritical 
part,  I  turned  back  and  entered  the  cottage  to  explain  the 
situation  to  the  ladies. 

During  that  long,  still  afternoon,  visitors  came  and 
went.  Louise  Barnard,  a  little  refreshed  and  very  anxious 
returned  and  resumed  her  post  at  the  bedside.  She  was 
shocked  and  indignant  at  the  news  of  Jim  Long's  arrest; 
and  she  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  and  gratification  upon  be- 
ing told  of  the  expected  coming  Dr.  Denham.  Late  in 
the  afternoon,  Dr.  Hess  made  a  second  visit,  and  when  he 
returned  to  town  Mr.  Harris  accompanied  him,  the  two 
driving  back  in  the  doctor's  gig. 

It  was  very  quiet.  Mrs.  Harris  dozed  in  the  easy-chair; 
Louise  sat  mute  and  statute-like  by  the  bedside  of  her  lover, 
and  I,  oppressed  by  the  stillness,  was  leaning  over  the  open 
window  sill,  wondering  how  it  was  faring  with  Jim  Long, 
when  the  gate  gave  the  faintest  creak,  and  I  lifted  my  eyes 
to  see  the  object  of  my  mental  inquiry  coming  toward  me. 

Uttering  an  exclamation  which  roused  good  Mrs.  Harris 
and  caused  the  watcher  in  the  inner  room  to  turn  her  head, 
I  hastened  to  meet  him. 

"Long,"  I  exclaimed,  "what  lucky  fate  has  brought 
you  back?" 

He  glanced  from  me  to  the  doorway,  where  Mrs.  Harris 


336  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

was  now  standing,  with  an  expectant  look  on  her  benevo» 
lent  countenance,  and  and  replied,  laconically : 

"  Bail." 

"  Good !  I  was  thinking  of  that." 

"Jim,"  broke  in  Mi's.  Harris,  eagerly,  "who  did  it? 
We'll  all  bless  his  kindness." 

He  advanced  to  the  door,  planted  his  right  foot  upon 
the  lower  step,  rested  his  elbow  on  his  knee,  pushed  his 
hat  off  his  forehead,  and  grinned  benignly  on  us  both. 

"Then  I'm  the  feller  that'll  walk  off  with  the  blessin'," 
he  said,  with  a  chuckle.  "  I  went  my  own  bail  to  the  tune 
of  five  thousand  dollars  !" 

Mrs.  Harris  gave  a  gasp  of  surprise.  I  seated  myself 
on  the  corner  of  the  step  farthest  from  Jim,  and,  seeing 
that  he  was  about  to  volunteer  a  further  explanation,  re- 
mained silent. 

At  the  same  moment  I  observed  what  was  unoticed  by 
the  other  two;  Miss  Barnard  had  left  her  post  and  was 
standing  behind  Mrs.  Harris. 

"Ye  see,"  continued  Jim,  giving  me  a  sidelong  glance, 
and  then  fixing  his  eyes  upon  the  hem  of  Mrs.  Harris's 
apron,  "Ye  see,  I  had  ter  appear  afore  Jestice  Summers. 
Now,  the  Jestice,"  with  another  sidelong  glance,  and  an 
almost  imperceptable  gesture,  "is  a  man  an'  a  brother.  I 
ain't  agoin'  ter  say  anythin'  agin'  him.  I  s'pose  he  had  to 
do  his  duty.  There  was  some  in  that  office  that  wanted 
ter  see  me  put  where  I  couldn't  be  so  sassy,  but  I  didn't 


JIM  GIVES  BAIL.  337 

mind  them.  The  minit  I  got  in  my  oar,  I  jest  talked  right 
straight  at  the  Jestice,  an'  I  told  him  in  short  order  that 
ef  I  was  sure  of  bein'  treated  on  the  square,  I'd  jest  waive 
an  examination.  An'  then  I  kind  o'  sighed,  an'  appealed 
to  their  feelin's,  telliu'  them  that  I  hadn't  no  friends  nor 
relations,  but  that  may  be,  ef  they  gave  me  half  a  show, 
an'  didn't  set  my  bail  too  high,  may  be  some  one  would  go 
my  security,  an'  give  me  a  chance  ter  try  ter  clear  myself. 
Wai!  ef  you  could  a  looked  around  that  office,  ye'd  a 
thought  my  chance  o'  gittin  security  was  slim.  The 
Jestice  called  the  time  on  me,  an'  allowed  'twould  be  fair 
ter  give  me  bail.  An'  then 'Squire  Brookhouse,  an'  one  or 
two  more,  piped  in  with  objections,  until  the  Jestice  put 
the  bail  up  ter  five  thousand.  Of  course  that  wilted  me 
right  down.  Everybody  grinned  or  giggled,  an'  nobody 
didn't  ofter  any  more  objections,  an'  the  bizness  was  fin- 
ished up.  Then,  when  they  had  got  ter  a  place  where  there 
was  no  backin'  out,  I  jest  unbuttoned  my  coat  an'  vest 
whipped  off  a  belt  I'd  got  fixed  handy  for  the  'casion,  an' 
counted  five  thousand  dollars  right  down  under  their  noses !" 
Here  he  paused  to  lift  his  eyes  to  the  face  of  Mrs. 
Harris,  and  to  see.  for  the  first  time,  his  third  auditor,  who 
now  came  forward  to  grasp  his  hand,  and  utter  rejoicings 
at  his  present  liberty,  and  indignant  disapproval  of  the  par- 
ties who  had  brought  against  him  a  charge  which  she  un- 
hesitatingly pronounced  absurd  and  without  reasonable 

foundation. 

22     *15 


338  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

* 

Next  Jim's  hand  came  into  the  cordial  grasp  of  good 
Mrs.  Harris,  who  was  more  voluble  than  Louise  Barnard, 
and  none  the  less  sincere. 

When,  after  a  time,  Jim  and  I  found  ourselves  tete-d-teti 
for  a  moment,  I  said: 

"Long,  I  look  on  it  as  a  fortunate  thing  that  you  were 
taken  before  Justice  Summers." 

"Well,"  said  Jim,  dryly,  "  all  things  considered,  so  do  I." 


VIGILANT8.  339 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

VIGILAXTS. 

The  long  day  is  ended  at  last ;  the  sun  has  set  in  a  bank 
of  dim  clouds.  There  is  no  moon  as  yet,  and  that  orb, 
which  is  due  above  the  horizon  in  exactly  eight  minutes, 
by  an  authentic  almanac,  will  scarcely  appear  at  her  best 
to-night,  for  the  leaden  clouds  that  swallowed  up  the  sun 
have  spread  themselves  across  all  the  sky,  leaving  scarce  a 
rent  through  which  the  moon  may  peep  at  the  world. 

The  darkness  is  sufficient  to  cover  my  journey,  and  the 
hour  is  yet  early — too  early  for  birds  of  the  night  to  be- 
gin to  prowl,  one  might  think ;  yet,  as  I  approach  Jim 
Long's  cabin,  I  encounter  a  sentinel,  dimly  outlined  but 
upright  before  me,  barring  the  way. 

"  Hold  on,  my—" 

"Jim." 

"Oh!  it's  you,  cap'n;  all  right.  Come  along;  we're 
waitin'." 

I  follow  him  into  his  own  cabin,  and  stand  beside  the 
door,  which  some  one  has  closed  as  we  enter,  while  Jim 
strikes  a  light,  Then  I  see  that  the  cabin  is  occupied  by 
half  a  dozen  men. 

"Pardner,"  says  Jim,  setting  down  the  candle,  and  in- 


340  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

dicating  the  various  individuals,  by  a  gesture,  as  he  names 
them,  "  this  'er's  Mr.  Warren,  the  captain  o'  the  Trafton 
vigilants." 

I  turn  upon  Jim  a  look  of  surprise,  but  he  goes 
placidly  on. 

"This  is  young  Mr.  Warren." 

I  return  the  nod  of  a  bright-looking  young  farmer. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Booth,  Mr.  Benner,  and  Mr.  Jaeger." 

The  three  men  who  stand  together  near  the  window  bow 
gravely. 

"And  this,"  finishes  Jim,  "is  Mr.  Harding." 

As  Mr.  Harding  moves  forward  out  of  the  shadow,  I 
recognize  him.  It  is  the  man  M'hose  recital  of  the  mis- 
fortunes of  Trafton,  overheard  by  me  on  the  day  of  my 
departure  from  Groveland,  had  induced  me  to  come  to  the 
thief-ridden  village. 

"I  have  met  Mr.  Harding  before,"  I  say,  as  I  profter  my 
hand  to  him. 

"I  don't  remember,"  with  a  look  of  abashed  surprise. 

"Perhaps  not,  Mr.  Harding;  nevertheless,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  you  I  should,  probably,  never  have  visited  Traf- 
ton." 

The  look  of  surprise  broadens  into  amazement.  But  it 
is  not  the  time  for  explanations.  I  turn  back  to  Mr. 
Warren. 

"  Am  I  to  understand  that  you  have  a  vigilance  commit- 
tee already  organized  here?" 


"I  follow  him  into  his  own  cabin,  and  stand  beside  the  door, 
which  some  one  has  closed  as  we  enter,  while  Jim  strikes  a  light."— 
page  339. 

341 


VIGILANTS.  343 

"We  have  an  organized  party,  sir."  Here  Jim  inter- 
poses. 

"Ye  see,  I  happen  ter  belong  ter  the  vigilants.  An' 
when  ye  asked  nie  ter  name  a  reliable  man,  why,  I  jest 
thought  I'd  bring  you  an'  Mr.  Warren  .together  an'  'twould 
simplify  matters.  'Twant  my  business  to  explain  jest 
then." 

"  Charlie,"  says  Mr.  Warren,  addressing  the  young  man 
near  the  door,  "  go  outside  and  see  that  no  one  comes  within 
seeing  or  hearing  distance.  We  want  Long  here." 

The  young  vigilant  mounts  guard  and  I  turn  again  to 
Mr.  Warren. 

"Mr.  Long  has  explained  the  nature  of  my  business?" 

"  Yes,  you  may  be  sure  it  was  a  surprise  to  me." 

"  How  many  men  have  you  ?" 

"  Fifteen  in  all." 

"  And  you  have  all  failed  to  find  a  clue  to  the  identity 
of  the  horse-thieves?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  we  have  failed.  We  have  organized  in  secret 
and  worked  in  secret.  We  hoped  and  expected  to  sift  this 
matter  to  the  bottom,  and  we  have  failed  utterly.  But  Jim 
tells  me  that  you  have  succeeded  where  we  have  failed." 

"  Not  quite  that.  Listen,  gentlemen.  I  know  where  to 
put  my  hands,  now,  to-night,  upon  the  six  horses  that  were 
stolen  one  week  ago.  If  it  were  merely  a  question  of  the 
recovery  of  these,  I  should  not  need  your  aid.  It  might  be 
worth  something  to  me  if  I  recovered  the  horses,  but  it  wil 


344  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

be  worth  much  more  to  us,  and  to  all  Trafton,  if  we  cap- 
ture the  thieves,  and  they  cannot  be  taken  to-night,  perhaps 
not  for  many  nights.  We  are  surrounded  with  spies;  the 
man  we  might  least  suspect,  may  be  the  very  one  to  betray 
us.  Our  only  safe  course  is  to  work  in  harmony,  and,  for  the 
present,  at  least,  trust  none  outside  of  this  room.  I  have 
trusted  this  organization  to  Jim  Long,  believing  in  his  dis- 
cretion. He  assures  me  that  I  can  rely  upon  every  man 
of  you." 

Mr.  Warren  bares  his  head,  and  comes  forward. 

"We  have  all  been  losers  at  the  hands  of  these  rascally 
thieves,"  he  says,  earnestly.  "  And  we  all  want  to  see  the 
town  free  from  them.  We  are  not  poor  men;  the  vigilante 
arc  all  farmers  who  have  something  at  stake.  Show  us  how 
to  clean  out  these  horse-thieves,  and  if  you  want  reliable 
men,  they  will  be  on  hand.  If  you  want  money,  that  can 
be  had  in  plenty." 

"All  we  want,  is  here  ;  half  a  dozen  men  with  ordinary 
courage  and  shrewdness,  and  a  litttle  patience.  The  moon 
is  now  at  its  full ;  before  a  new  moon  rises,  we  will  have 
broken  up  the  gang  of  Trafton  outlaws  !" 

"  And  why,"  asks  Mr.  Warren,  eagerly,  "  must  our  time 
be  regulated  by  the  moon  ?" 

"  Because,"  I  say,  significantly,  "  horse-thieves  are  seldom 
abroad  on  moonlight  nights." 

An  hour  passes ;  an  hour  during  which  Mr.  Warren, 
Mr.  Harding,  and  myself,  talk  much,  and  the  others  listen 


i  VIGIL  ANTS.  345 

attentively,  making,  now  and  then,  a  brief  comment,  or  ut- 
tering an  approving  ejaculation.  All  except  Jim.  He  has 
forced  young  Warren  to  join  the  conference  within,  and  has 
stood  on  picket-duty  outside,  to  all  appearances,  the  least 
interested  of  any  gathered  there  for  counsel. 

It  is  ten  o'clock  when  we  separate  ;  the  vigilants  going 
their  way  silently,  and  one  at  a  time,  and  Jim  and  myself 
returning  to  the  cottage  together. 

"  Ye  couldn't  have  found  six  better  men,"  says  Jim,  who 
has  chosen  to  sustain  his  role  of  illiterate  rustic  throughout 
the  evening.  4<  Ye  can  trust  'em/' 

"  I  have  given  them  no  unnecessary  information,  Long. 
Not  half  so  much  as  you  have  scented  out  for  yourself 
They  know  enough  to  enable  them  to  do  what  will  be  re- 
quired of  them  and  nothing  more." 

"Then,"  wTith  a  dry  laugh,  "they  know  more  than 
I  do." 

"  If  they  know  that,  you  are  actually  capable  of  drawing 
the  reins  over  the  'nine  parts  of  speech,'"  I  retort,  "they 
did  not  learn  it  from  me." 

"Then,"  with  another  chuckling  laugh,  "I  fancy  they 
don't  know  it." 

Dr.  Denham  came  at  midnight,  and  Miss  Barnard  greeted 
him  with  a  smile  that  ended  in  a  sob. 

Evidently  "our  old  woman"  had  been  enlightened  con- 
cerning her,  for  he  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her 


346  OUT  OP  A  LABYRINTH. 

with  grave  tenderness,  before  going  to  the  bedside  of  his 
patient. 

He  took  absolute  command  of  the  cottage,  and  no  one, 
not  even  Louise,  ventured  to  oppose  him  or  raise  the  voice 
of  argument.  He  took  all  responsibility  out  of  my  hands, 
and  dismissed  me  with  his  usual  formula. 

uGo  about  your  business,  you  young  rascal.  1  might 
have  known  you'd  be  at  some  new  deviltry  shortly.  Go 
about  your  business,  and  by  the  time  I  get  Bethel  on  his 
feet,  you'll  have  me  another  patient,  I'll  be  bound." 

But  Jim  found  favor  in  the  eyes  of  "our  old  woman," 
who  straightway  elected  him  general  assistant,  and  he  soon 
discovered  that  to  be  assistant  to  Dr.  Denham  was  no  sin- 
ecure. Indeed,  a  more  abject  bond  slave  than  Jim,  during 
that  first  week  of  Bethel's  illness,  could  not  well  be 
imagined. 

"Our  old  woman's"  scepter  extended,  too,  over  poor 
Louise.  He  was  as  tender  as  possible,  allowing  her  to  assist 
him  when  she  could,  and  permitting  her  to  watch  by  the 
bedside  four  or  five  hours  each  day.  But  beyond  that  she 
could  not  trespass.  There  must  be  no  exhausting  effort, 
no  more  night  vigils. 

Louise  rebelled  at  first;  tried  coaxing,  then  pouting, 
then  submitted  to  the  power  that  would  wield  the  scepter. 

The  good  doctor  brought  from  the  city  a  package  sent 
me  by  my  Chief,  which  he  put  into  my  hands  at  the  first 
opportunity. 


VIGILANTS.  347 

It  contained  papers,  old  and  yellow;  some  copied  memo- 
randa, and  two  photographs.  When  I  had  examined  all 
these,  I  breathed  a  sigh  of  relieved  surprise. 

Another  link  was  added  to  my  chain  of  evidence,  another 
thread  to  the  web  I  was  weaving. 

Without  that  packet  I  had  cherished  a  suspicion.  With 
it,  I  grasped  a  certainty. 


348  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

A  CHAPTER  OF  TELEGRAMS. 

The  following  week  was  to  me  one  of  busy  idleness. 
Now  at  the  cottage,  where  Bethel,  pain-racked  and  delir- 
ious, buffeted  between  life  and  death.  Now  closeted  for  a 
half-hour  with  the  new  night  operator.  Keeping  an  eye 
upon  Dimber  Joe,  who  continued  his  lounging  and  novel 
reading,  and  who  was,  to  all  appearances,  the  idlest  and 
most  care-free  man  in  Trafton. 

I  saw  less  of  Jim  Long  than  pleased  me,  for,  when  he 
was  not  bound  to  the  chariot  wheel  of  "  our  old  woman," 
he  contrived  somehow  to  elude  me,  or  to  avoid  all  tete-d-tetes. 
I  scarcely  saw  him  except  in  the  presence  of  a  third 
party. 

Mr.  Warren,  or  one  or  two  other  members  of  the  party 
who  had  met  me  at  Jim  Long's  cabin,  were  constantly  to 
be  seen  about  Trafton.  During  the  day  they  were  care- 
lessly conspicuous  ;  during  the  night  their  carelessness  gave 
place  to  caution ;  but  they  were  none  the  less  present,  as 
would  have  been  proven  by  an  emergency. 

The  new  telegraph  operator  was  a  host  in  himself.  He 
was  social,  talkative,  and  something  of  a  lounger.  He 


A  CHAPTER  OF  TELEGRAMS.  349 

found  it  easy  to  touch  the  pulse  of  Trafton  gossip,  and  knew 
what  they  thought  at  Porter's  concerning  Bethel's  calamity, 
Long's  arrest  and  subsequent  release  under  bail,  etc.,  without 
seeming  to  have  made  an  effort  in  search  of  information. 

The  two  questions  now  agitating  the  minds  "of  the  Traf- 
ton gossips  were  :  "  Who  shot  Dr.  Bethel,  if  Jim  Long  did 
not  ?"  and  "  Where  did  Jim  Long,  who  had  always  been 
considered  but  one  remove  from  a  pauper,  get  the  money 
to  pay  so  heavy  a  bail  ?" 

The  theories  in  regard  to  these  two  questions  were  as 
various  as  the  persons  who  advocated  them,  and  were  as 
astounding  and  absurd  as  the  most  diligent  sensation-hun- 
ter could  have  desired. 

Jim's  gun  had  been  found  in  a  field  less  than  half  a  miie 
from  Bethel's  cottage,  by  some  workmen  who  had  been 
sent  by  'Squire  Brookhouse  to  repair  one  of  his  farm  fences, 
and  I  learned,  with  peculiar  interest,  that  Tom  Briggs  was 
one  of  these  workmen. 

Upon  hearing  that  the  gun  had  been  found,  Dimber  Joe 
had  made  his  statement.  He  had  seen  Jim  Long,  between 
the  hours  of  nine  and  ten  p.  M.,  going  in  the  direction  of 
the  cottage,  with  a  gun  upon  his  shoulder. 

Of  course,  when  making  this  assertion,  he  had  no  idea 
of  the  use  to  which  it  would  be  put ;  and  equally,  of  course, 
he  much  regretted  that  he  had  mentioned  the  fact  when  he 
found  himself  likely  to  be  used  as  a  witness  against  Long, 
whom  he  declared  to  be  an  inoffensive  fellow,  so  far  as  he 


350  OUT  OP  A  LABYRINTH. 

had  known  him,  and  toward  whom  he  could  have  no  ill- 
will. 

In  due  time,  sooner,  in  fact,  than  I  had  dared  hope,  there 
came  a  message  from  Carnes. 

It  came  through  the  hands  of  young  Harris.  Carnes, 
having  sent  it  early  in  the  day,  and  knowing  into  whose 
hands  it  would  probably  fall,  had  used  our  cipher  alphabet: 

4.     F  d,  t,  t,  o  w  a — u  h  e — n  a  x ,  — ,  — .  C . 

This  is  the  cipher  which,  using  the  figure  at  the  head  as 
the  key,  will  easily  be  interpreted : 

Found.    What  next?  CAKNES. 

Found !  That  meant  much.  It  meant  that  the  end  of 
the  Groveland  mystery  was  near  at  hand ! 

But  there  was  much  to  learn  before  we  could  decide  and 
reply  to  the  query,  "What  next?" 

While  Harris  was  absent  for  a  few  moments,  during  the 
afternoon,  the  night  operator  sent  the  following  to  Carnes. 

Where  found?    In  what  condition?    What  do  you  advise? 
Before  midnight,  this  answer  came : 

In  a  fourth-rate  theater  One  well,  the  other  sick.  Their  friends 
had  better  come  for  them  at  once.  Can  you  get  your  hands  on 
Johnny  La  Porte? 

To  this  I  promptly  replied : 
Telegraph  particulars  to  the  Agency.     We  can  get  La  Porte,  but 


A  CHAPTER  OF  TELEGRAMS.  351 

must  not  alarm  the  others  too  soon.     State  what  you  want  with 
him.     Wyman  will  come  to  you,  if  needed. 

This  message  dispatched,  I  dictated  another  to  my  Chief. 

Let  Wyman  act  with  Carnes.     Can  not  quit  this  case  at  present 
Carnes  will  wire  you  particulars. 

This  being  sent,  I  went  back  to  my  hotel  and  waited. 
The  next  day  the  night  operator  offered  to  relieve  Harris, 
an  offer  which  was  gladly  accepted. 

A  little  before  noon  the  following  message  came: 

Instructions  received.     "Wyman,  Ewing,  Rutger,  and  La  Porte 
start  for  New  Orleans  to-morrow.    Do  you  need  any  help? 

I  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  and  gratification,  and  sped  back 
the  answer,  "  No." 


352  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

CARNES  TELLS   HIS  STORY. 

The  time  came  when  Games  told  me  the  story  of  his 
New  Orleans  search.  As  he  related  it  to  me  then,  let  him 
relate  it  now: — 

Arrived  in  New  Orleans  without  trouble  or  delay,  at 
three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Registered  at  the  "  Hotel 
Honore,"  a  small  house  near  the  levees;  giving  my  name 
as  George  Adams,  sugar  dealer,  from  St.  Louis. 

Then  began  a  hunt  among  the  theaters,  and,  before  seven 
o'clock  I  had  found  the  place  I  wanted, — "  The  Little 
Adclphi,"  owned  and  managed  by  "  Storms  &  Brookhouse." 
It  is  a  small  theater,  but  new  and  neatly  fitted  up,  has  a 
bar  attached,  and  beer  tables  on  the  floor  of  the  auditorium. 
I  made  no  effort  to  see  Brookhouse,  but  went  back  to  the 
"  Honore,"  after  learning  that  money  would  open  the  door 
of  the  green  room  to  any  patron  of  the  theater. 

After  supper  I  refreshed  my  memory  by  a  look  at  the 
pictures  of  the  missing  young  ladies,  including  that  of  Miss 
Amy  Holmes,  and  then  I  set  out  for  the  little  Adelphi. 

There  was  never  an  easier  bit  of  work  than  this  New 
Orleans  business.  The  curtain  went  up  on  a  "Minstrel 


CAKNES  TELLS  HIS  STORY.  353 

first  part/'  and  there,  sitting  next  to  one  of  the  "end  men," 
was  Mamie  Rutger! 

Her  curly  hair  was  stuck  full  of  roses.  She  wore  a  very 
short  pink  satin  dress,  and  her  little  feet  were  conspicuous 
in  white  kid  slippers.  If  Miss  Mamie  was  forcibly  ab- 
ducted, she  has  wasted  no  time  in  grieving  over  it.  If  she 
has  been  in  any  manner  deceived  or  deluded,  she  bears  it 
wonderfully  well.  She  sang  her  ballad  with  evident  en- 
joyment, and  her  voice  rang  out  in  the  choruses,  clear  and 
sweet.  Her  lips  were  wreathed  in  smiles,  her  cheeks 
glowed,  and  her  eyes  sparkled.  Occasionally  she  turned 
her  head  to  whisper  to  the  blacked-up  scamp  who  sat  at 
her  right  hand.  Altogether  she  deported  herself  with  the 
confidence  of  an  old  habitue  of  the  stage.  Evidently  she 
had  made  herself  popular  with  the  Little  Adelphi  audi- 
ences, and  certainly  she  enjoyed  her  popularity. 

After  the  first  part,  I  watched  the  stage  impatiently,  it 
being  too  early  to  venture  into  the  green-room. 

Mamie  Rutger  did  not  re-appear,  but,  after  an  hour, 
occupied  principally  by  "burnt  cork  artists,"  Miss  Lotta 
Le  Clair,  "the  song  and  dance  Queen,"  came  tripping  from 
the  wings ;  and  Miss  Lotta  Le  Clair,  in  a  blue  velvet  coat 
and  yellow  satin  nether  garments,  was  none  other  than 
Amy  Holmes!  She  danced  very  well,  and  sang  very  ill ; 
and  I  fancied  that  she  had  tasted  too  often  of  the  cheap 
wine  dealt  out  behind  the  bar.  Very  soon  after  her  exit 
I  made  my  way  to  the  green-room,  piloted  by  the  head 

23 


354  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

waiter.  I  had,  of  course,  gotten  myself  up  for  the  occasion, 
and  I  looked  like  a  cross  between  a  last  year's  fashionplate 
and  a  Bowery  blackleg. 

It  is  always  easy  to  make  a  variety  actress  talk,  and 
those  at  the  Little  Adelphi  proved  no  exception.  Two  or 
three  bottles  of  wine  opened  the  way  to  some  knowledge. 

By  chatting  promiscuously  with  several  of  the  Adelphi 
belles,  I  learned  that  Amy  Holmes  and  Mamie  Rutger, 
who,  by  the  way,  was  "Rose  Deschappelles"  on  the  bills, 
lived  together.  That  Amy,  who  was  not  known  at  the 
theater  by  that  name,  was  "a  hard  one,"  and  "old  in  the 
business;"  while  "  Rose"  was  a  soft  little  prig  who  "  wore 
her  lover's  picture  in  a  locket,"  and  was  "  as  true  to  him 
as  steel."  The  girls  all  united  in  voting  Amy  disagreeable, 
in  spite  of  her  superior  wisdom  ;  and  Mamie,  "a  real  nice, 
jolly  little  thing,"  spite  of  her  verdancy. 

The  fair  Amy  was  then  approached,  and  my  real  work 
began.  I  ordered,  in  her  honor,  an  extra  brand  of  wine. 
I  flattered  her,  I  talked  freely  of  my  wealth,  and  displayed 
my  money  recklessly.  I  became  half  intoxicated  in  her 
society,  and,  through  it  all,  bemoaned  the  fact  that  I  could 
not  offer,  for  her  quaffing,  the  sparkling  champagne  that 
was  the  only  fitting  drink  for  such  a  goddess. 

The  Adelphi  champagne  was  detestable  stuff,  and  Miss 
Amy  was  connoisseur  enough  to  know  it.  She  frankly  con- 
fessed her  fondness  for  good  ( hampagne,  and  could  tell  me 
just  where  it  was  to  be  found. 


CAKNES  TELLS  HIS  STORY.  355 

The  rest  came  as  a  matter  of  course.  I  proposed  to  give 
her  a  champagne  banquet;  she  accepted,  and  the  programme 
was  speedily  arranged. 

At  eleven  o'clock  the  next  day,  she  would  meet  me  at  a 
convenient  little  restaurant  near  the  theater.  I  must  come 
with  a  carriage.  We  would  have  a  drive,  and,  just  outside 
the  city,  would  come  upon  Louis  Meniu's  Summer  cafe. 
There  we  would  find  fine  luscious  fruits,  rare  wines,  every- 
thing choice  and  dainty. 

Miss  Amy,  who  seemed  to  possess  all  the  luxurious  tastes 
of  a  native  Creole,  arranged  the  programme,  and  we  parted 
at  the  green-room  door,  mutually  satisfied,  she  anticipat- 
ing a  gala  day,  and  I  seeing  before  me  the  disagreeable 
necessity  of  spoiling  her  frolic  and  depriving  the  Little 
Adelphi,  for  a  time  at  least,  of  one  of  its  fairest  attractions. 

The  course  which  I  had  resolved  to  pursue  was  not  the 
one  most  to  my  taste ;  but  it  was  the  simplest,  shortest,  and 
would  accord  best  with  the  instructions  given  me,  viz.,  that 
no  arrests  must  be  made,  nor  anything  done  to  arouse  the 
suspicions  of  Fred  Brookhouse,  and  cause  him  to  give  the 
alarm  to  his  confederates  in  the  North. 

I  had  purposely  held  aloof  from  Mamie  Rutger,  feeling 
convinced  that  it  were  best  not  to  approach  her  until  a 
definite  course  of  action  had  been  decided  upon.  Nor  was 
I  entirely  certain  that  my  scheme  would  succeed.  If  Amy 
Holmes  should  prove  a  shade  wiser,  shrewder,  and  more 
courageous,  and  a  trifle  less  selfish  and  avaricious  than  I 


356  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

had  judged  her  to  be,  my  plans  might  fail  and,  in  that  case, 
the  girl  might  work  me  much  mischief. 

I  weighed  the  possibilities  thoughtfully,  and  resolved  to 
risk  the  chances. 

Accordingly,  on  the  morning  after  my  visit  to  the  Little 
Adelphi,  I  sent  my  first  telegram,  and  made  arrangements 
for  putting  my  scheme  into  execution. 

The  beginning  of  the  programme  was  carried  out,  as 
planned  by  the  young  lady. 

We  drove  to  the  cafe,  kept  by  Louis  Meniu,  and  tested 
his  champagne,  after  which  I  began  to  execute  my  plans. 

"  Louis  Meniu  might  be  all  very  well,"  I  said,  "  but 
there  was  no  man  in  New  Orleans,  so  I  had  often  been  told 
by  Northern  travelers,  who  could  serve  such  a  dinner  as 

did  the  chef  at  the  P Hotel.  Should  we  drive  to  this 

house  and  there  eat  the  best  dinner  to  be  served  in  the 
city?" 

The  prospect  of  dining  at  a  swell  hotel  pleased  the  young 
lady.  She  gave  instant  consent  to  the  plan,  and  we  turned 
back  to  the  city  and  the  P Hotel/ 

Here  we  were  soon  installed  in  a  handsome  private  par- 
lor, and,  after  I  had  paused  a  few  moments  in  the  office, 
to  register,  "Geo.  Adams  and  sister,  St.  Louis,  Mo.,"  I 
closed  the  door  upon  servants  and  intruders,  and  the  en- 
gagement commenced. 

Having  first  locked  the  door  and  put  the  key  in  my 
pocket,  I  approached  Miss  Amy,  who  stood  before  a  mirror, 


CARNES  TELLS  HIS  STORY.  357 

carelessly  arranging  a  yellow  rose  in  her  black  frisettes. 
Dropping  my  swaggering,  half-maudlin,  wholly-admiring 
tone  and  manner,  I  said,  quietly : 

"Now,  Miss  Amy  Holmes,  if  you  will  sit  down  opposite 
me,  we  will  talk  things  over." 

She  started  violently,  and  turned  toward  me  with  a  stare 
of  surprise,  in  which,  however,  I  could  observe  no  fear. 
The  name  had  caused  her  astonishment.  I  had  been  care- 
ful to  address  her  by  her  stage  name,  or  rather  the  one  she 
chose  to  use  at  the  theater.  I  hardly  suppose  her  real  name 
to  be  Holmes, — probably  it  is  Smith  or  Jones  instead. 

She  let  the  hand  holding  the  rose  drop  at  her  side,  but 
did  not  loosen  her  grasp  of  the  flower. 

"Look  here/'  she  exclaimed,  sharply.  "Where did  you 
pick  up  that  name?  and  what  kind  of  a  game  are  you  giv- 
ing me,  anyhow?" 

After  the  surprise  occasioned  by  the  utterance  of  her  dis- 
carded name,  my  altered  tone  and  manner  had  next  im- 
pressed her. 

"  I  got  that  name  where  I  got  several  others,  Miss  Amy, 
and  the  game  I  am  playing  is  one  that  is  bound  to  win." 

She  sat  down  upon  the  nearest  chair,  and  stared  mutely. 

"How  would  you  like  to  go  back  to  Amora,  Miss 
Holmes?  Or  to  Groveland  and  the  widow  Ballou's?" 

She  sprang  up  with  her  eyes  flashing,  and  made  a  sudden 
dash  for  the  door.  Of  course  it  resisted  her  effort  to 
open  it. 


358  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"Open  that  door,"  she  said,  turning  upon  me  a  look  of 
angry  defiance.  "You  are  either  a. fool  or  a  meddler. 
Open  the  door !" 

I  laid  one  hand  somewhat  heavily  upon  her  shoulder, 
and  led  her  back  to  the  seat  she  had  just  vacated. 

"Possibly  I  may  be  both  fool  and  meddler,"  I  replied, 
in  a  tone  so  stern  that  it  seemed  to  arrest  her  attention,  and 
impress  her  with  the  fact  that  I  was  neither  trifling  nor  to 
be  trifled  with.  "But  I  am  something  else,  and  I  know 
more  of  you,  my  young  lady,  and  of  your  past  career,  than 
you  would  care  to  have  me  know.  Perhaps  you  may  never 
have  heard  of  Michael  Games,  the  detective,  but  there  are 
others  who  have  made  his  acquaintance." 

Now,  all  this  was  random  firing,  but  I  acted  on  the 
knowledge  that  nine-tenths  of  the  women  who  are  pro- 
fessional adventuresses  have,  in  their  past,  something  either 
criminal  or  disgraceful  to  conceal,  and  on  the  possibility 
that  Miss  Amy  Holmes  might  not  belong  to  the  exceptional 
few. 

The  shot  told.  I  saw  it  in  the  sudden  blanching  of  her 
cheek,  in  the  startled  look  that  met  mine  for  just  an  instant. 
If  there  were  nothing  else  to  conceal,  I  think  she  would 
have  defied  me  and  flouted  at  my  efforts  to  extract  infor- 
mation on  the  subject  of  the  Groveland  mystery. 

But  I  had  touched  at  a  more  vulnerable  point.  If  I 
could  now  convince  her  that  I  knew  her  past  career,  the 
rest  would  be  easy. 


"  Opeu  that  door,"  she  said,  turning  upon  me  a  look  of  angry  de- 
fiance.— page  358. 

859 


.    CAENES  TELLS  HIS  STORY.  361 

It  was  a  delicate  undertaking.  I  might  say  too  much, 
or  too  little,  but  I  must  press  the  advantage  I  had  gained. 
Her  attention  was  secured.  Her  curiosity  was  aroused. 
There  was  a  shade  of  anxiety  on  her  face. 

Drawing  a  chair  opposite  her,  and  seating  myself  therein, 
I  fixed  my  eyes  upon  her  face,  and  addressed  her  in  a  tone 
half  stern,  half  confidential : 

"You  are  a  plucky  girl,"  I  began,  "and  I  admire  you 
for  that;  and  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  followed  you,  or 
tracked  you,  from  the  North,  through  Amora,  through 
Groveland,  down  to  the  Little  Adelphi,  you  will  perhaps 
conjecture  that  I  do  not  intend  to  be  balked  or  evaded,  even 
by  so  smart  a  little  lady  as  you  have  proved  yourself.  I 
bear  you  no  personal  ill-will,  and  I  much  dislike  to  perse- 
cute a  woman  even  when  she  has  been  guilty  of 

I  paused;  she  made  a  restless  movement,  and  a  look  of 
pain  flitted  across  her  face. 

"  Perhaps  we  may  be  able  to  avoid  details,"  I  said,  slowly. 
"  I  will  let  you  decide  that." 

"How?"  with  a  gasp  of  relief  or  surprise,  I  could  hnrdly 
guess  which. 

"Listen.  Some  time  ago  two  girls  disappeared  from  a 
little  northern  community,  and  I  was  one  of  the  detectives 
employed  to  find  them.  I  need  not  go  into  details,  since 
you  know  so  much  about  the  case.  In  the  course  of  the 
investigation,  we  inquired  pretty  closely  into  the  character 
of  the  company  kept  by  those  two  young  ladies,  and  learned 

*16 


362  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH.         . 

that  a  Miss  Amy  Holmes  had  been  a  schoolmate  of  the 
missing  girls.  Afterward,  this  same  Amy  Holmes  and 
a  Miss  Grace  Ballon  made  an  attempt  to  escape  from  the 
Ballon  farm  house.  The  scheme  was  in  part  frustrated, 
but  Amy  Holmes  escaped.  Mrs.  Ballon  furnished  us 
with  a  photo  of  Miss  Amy  Holmes,  and -when  I  saw  it  / 
knew  it  /" 

"Ah!" 

This  time  it  was  an  interjection  of  unmistakable  terror. 
It  gave  me  my  cue. 

"  I  knew  it  for  the  picture  of  a  young  woman  who  had — 
committed — a  crime;  a  young  woman  who  would  be  well  re- 
ceived at  police  headquarters,  and  I  said  to  myself  I  will 
now  find  this  young  person  who  calls  herself  Amy  Holmes." 

A  look  of  sullen  resolution  was  settling  upon  her  face. 
She  sat  before  me  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  carpet  and 
her  lips  tightly  closed. 

"I  have  found  her,"  I  continued,  mercilessly.  "And 
now — shall  I  take  you  back  with  me,  a  prisoner,  and  hand 
you  over  to  the  officers  of  the  law,  or  will  you  answer 
truthfully  such  questions  as  I  shall  put  to  you,  and  go 
away  from  this  house  a  free  woman?" 

She  was  so  absorbed  by  her  own  terror,  or  so  over- 
shadowed by  some  ghost  of  the  past,  that  she  seemed  to 
take  no  note  of  my  interest  in  the  Groveland  business,  ex- 
cept as  it  had  been  an  incidental  aid  in  hunting  her  down. 

"Do  you  think  I  would  trust  you?"  she  said,  with  a 


CAENES  TELLS  HIS  STORY.  363 

last  effort  at  defiance.  "You  want  to  make  me  testily 
against  myself." 

"You  mistake,  or  you  do  not  understand.  I  am  at 
present  working  in  the  interest  of  the  Groveland  case.  My 
discovery  of  you  was  an  accident,  and  my  knowledge  con- 
cerning you  I  am  using  as  a  means  toward  the  elucidation 
of  the  mystery  surrounding  the  movements  of  Mamie 
Rutger  and  Nellie  Ewing.  Mamie  Rutger  I  saw  last 
night  at  the  Little  Adelphi.  Nellie  Ewing  is  no  doubt 
within  reach.  I  might  find  them  both  without  your  as- 
sistance. It  would  only  require  a  little  more  time  and  a 
little  more  trouble  ;  but  time  just  now  is  precious.  I  have 
other  business  which  demands  my  attention  at  the  North. 
Therefore,  I  say,  tell  me  all  that  you  know  concerning 
these  two  girls — all,  mind.  If  you  omit  one  necessary  de- 
tail, if  you  fabricate  in  one  particular,  I  shall  know  it. 
Answer  all  my  questions  truthfully.  I  shall  only  ask  such 
as  concern  your  knowledge  or  connection  with  this  Grove- 
land  affair.  If  you  do  this,  you  have  nothing  to  fear  from 
me.  If  you  refuse — you  are  my  prisoner.  You  compre- 
hend me?" 

She  eyed  me  skeptically. 

"  How  do  I  know  that  you  will  let  me  go,  after  all  ?" 
she  said. 

"You  have  my  promise,  and  I  am  a  man  of  my  word. 
You  are  a  woman,  and  I  don't  want  to  arrest  you.  If  you 
were  a  man,  I  should  not  offer  you  a  chance  for  escape.  Do 


364  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

as  I  wish  and  you  are  free,  and  if  you  need  assistance  you 
shall  have  it.  You  must  choose  at  once;  time  presses." 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  said : 

"I  may  as  well  tell  you  about,  the  girls,  as  you  seem  to 
know  so  much,  and — T  can't  be  arrested  for  that." 

"Very  well!  Tell  your  story,  then,  truly  and  without 
omissions." 


AMY  HOLMES  CONFESSES.  365 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

AMY  HOLMES  CONFESSES. 

"You  say  that  you  have  seen  Mamie  Rutger  at  the 
theater/'  began  the  unwilling  narrator,  rather  ungraciously, 
"and  so  I  should  think  you  wouldn't  need  to  be  told  why 
she  ran  away  from  home.  She  wanted  to  go  on  the  stage, 
and  so  did  Nellie  Ewing.  Every  country  girl  in  christen- 
doni  wants  to  be  an  actress,  and  if  she  has  a  pretty  face  and 
a  decent  voice  she  feels  sure  that  she  can  succeed.  The 
girls  had  both  been  told  that  they  were  pretty,  and  they 
could  both  sing,  so  they  ran  away  to  come  out  at  the  Little 
Adelphi. 

"Mamie  took  to  the  business  like  a  duck  to  water. 
Nellie  got  sick  and  blue  and  whimsical,  and  has  not  ap- 
peared at  the  theater  for  several  weeks.  They  live  at  349 
B place." 

I  made  a  careful  note  of  the  address,  and  then  said  : 

"  Well,  proceed." 

"Proceed!  what  more  do  you  want  to  know?  I  have 
told  you  why  they  ran  away  and  where  to  find  them." 

This  was  too  much.  My  wrath  must  have  manifested 
itself  in  face  and  voice,  for  she  winced  under  my  gaze  and 
made  no  further  attempt  to  baffle  or  evade  me. 


366  OUT  OF  A  LABYKLNTH. 

"I  want  to  know  who  devised  the  villainous  plot  to 
allure  two  innocent  country  girls  away  from  home  and 
friends?  Who  set  you  on  as  decoy  and  temptress,  and  what 
reward  did  you  receive?  There  are  men  or  scoundrels  con- 
nected with  this  affair;  who  are  they;  and  what  means  have 
they  used  to  bring  about  such  a  misfortune  to  the  girls  and 
their  friends?  Tell  the  whole  truth,  and  remember  what  I 
have  said.  If  you  evade,  omit,  equivocate,  I  shall 
know  it!" 

"Will  you  give  me  time?"  she  faltered. 

"Not  ten  minutes.  Do  you  want  time  to  telegraph  to 
Arch  Brookhouse?  It  will  be  useless;  he  is  in  the  hands 
of  the  detectives,  and  no  message  can  reach  him." 

"What  has  Arch  done?"  she  cried,  excitedly.  "He  is 
not  the  one  to  be  blamed." 

"  He  has  done  enough  to  put  him  out  of  the  way 
of  mischief.  You  have  seen  the  last  of  Arch  Brook- 
house." 

"  But  Fred  is  the  man  who  set  this  thing  going!" 

"  Very  likely.  And  Arch  and  Louis  Brookhouse  were 
the  brothers  to  help  him.  What  about  Johnny  La  Porte 
and  Ed.  Dwight?  You  seel  know  too  much.  There  are 
two  officers  down-stairs.  If  you  have  not  finished  your 
story,  and  told  it  to  my  satisfaction,  before  half-past  four, 
I  will  call  them  up  and  hand  you  over  to  them.  It  is  now 
ten  minutes  to  four." 

She  favored  me  with  a  glance  full  of  impotent  hatred, 


AMY  HOLMES  CONFESSES.  367 

sat  quite  silent  for  a  long  moment,  during  which  I  sat  be- 
fore her  with  a  careless  glance  fixed  on  my  watch. 

Then  she  began  : 

"  I  worked  at  the  Little  Adelphi  over  a  year  ago.  There 
was  a  hot  rivalry  between  us,  the  Gayety,  and  the '  Frolique.' 
Fred  Brookhouse  was  managing  alone  then  ;  Storms — only 
came  into  partnership  in  the  Spring. 

"  During  the  winter  the  Gayety  brought  out  some  new 
attractions, — I  mean  new  to  the  profession  ;  no  old  names 
that  had  been  billed  and  billed,  but  young  girls  with 
fresh  faces  and  pretty  voices.  They  were  new  in  the 
business,  and  the  'old  stagers,'  especially  the  faded  and 
cracked-voiced  ones,  said  that  they  would  fail,  they  would 
hurt  the  business.  But  the  managers  knew  better.  They 
knew  that  pretty,  youthful  faces  were  the  things  most 
thought  of  in  the  varieties.  And  the  'freshness'  of  the  new 
performers  was  only  another  attraction  to  green-room 
visitors.  Nobody  knew  where  these  new  girls  came  from, 
and  nobody  could  find  out ;  but  they  drew,  and  the  Little 
Adelphi  lost  customers,  who  went  over  to  the  ( Gayety.' 

"  Fred  Brookhouse  was  angry,  and  he  began  to  study 
how  he  should  outdo  the  '  Gayety,'  and  '  put  out'  the  new 
attractions. 

"At  the  carnival  season,  Arch  and  Louis  Brookhouse 
came  down;  and  we  got  to  be  very  good  friends.  Do  you 
mean  to  use  anything  that  I  say  to  make  me  trouble?"  she 
broke  off,  abruptly. 


368  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"  Not  if  you  tell  the  entire  truth  and  spare  nobody." 

"Then  I  will  tell  it  just  as  it  happened.  Arch  and  Fred 
and  I  were  together  one  day  after  rehearsal.  I  was  a 
favorite  at  the  theater,  and  Fred  consulted  me  sometimes. 
Fred  wanted  some  fresh  attractions,  and  wondered  how 
they  got  the  new  girls  at  the  '  Gayety.'  And  I  told  him 
that  I  thought  they  might  have  been  '  recruited.'  He  did 
not  seem  to  understand,  and  I  explained  that  there  were 
managers  who  paid  a  commission  to  persons  who  would  get 
them  young,  pretty,  bright  girls,  who  could  sing  a  little, 
for  the  first  part,  and  for  green-room  talent. 

"  I  told  him  that  I  knew  of  an  old  variety  actress  who 
went  into  the  country  for  a  few  weeks  in  the  Summer,  and 
picked  up  girls  for  the  variety  business.  They  were  some- 
times poor  girls  who  '  worked  out/  and  were  glad  of  a 
chance  to  earn  an  easier  living,  and  sometimes  daughters 
of  well-to-do  people ;  girls  who  were  romantic  or  ambitious, 
stage-struck,  and  easily  flattered. 

"  Fred  asked  me  how  I  knew  all  this,  and  I  told  him 
that  I  was  roped  into  the  business  in  just  that  way." 

"Was  that  true?" 

"Yes;  it  was  true,"  a  dark  shade  crossing  her  face. 
"But  never  mind  me.  Fred  asked  me  if  I  knew  where  to 
go  to  find  three  or  four  pretty  girls.  He  said  he  did  not 
want  'biddies;'  they  must  be  young  and  pretty;  must  be 
fair  singers,  and  have  nice  manners.  He  could  get  gawks 
in  plenty.  He  wanted  lively  young  girls  who  would  be 


AMY  HOLMES  CONFESSES.  369 

interesting  and  attractive.  Some  new  idea  seemed  to  strike 
Arch  Brookhouse.  lie  took  Fred  aside,  and  by  and  by 
they  called  Louis,  and  the  three  talked  a  long  time. 

"The  next  day,  Arch  and  Louis  came  to  me.  They 
knew  where  to  find  just  the  girls  that  would  suit  Fred,  but 
it  would  be  some  trouble  to  get  them.  Then  they  told  me 
all  about  the  Groveland  girls;  Nellie  and  her  sister,  Mamie, 
Grace  Ballon  and  one  or  two  others.  Arch  knew  Nellie 
and  Grace.  Louis  seemed  particularly  interested  in 
Mamie. 

"  Fred  is  a  reckless  fellow,  and  he  would  spend  any 
amount  to  out-do  the  'Gayety/  and  he  seemed  infatuated 
with  the  new  scheme  for  getting  talent.  Besides,  he  knew 
that  he  could  pay  them  what  he  liked;  they  would  not  be 
clamoring  for  high  salaries.  He  agreed  to  pay  my  ex- 
penses North  if  I  would  get  the  girls  for  him. 

"Arch  and  Louis  went  home,  and  we  corresponded 
about  the  business.  Finally,  Arch  wrote  that  three  of 
the  girls  would  attend  school  at  Amora,  the  Spring  term, 
and  it  was  settled  that  I  should  attend  also. 

"  I  rather  liked  the  prospect.  Fred  fitted  me  out  in  good 
style,  and  I  went. 

"Of  course  I  soon  found  how  to  manage  the  girls. 
Mamie  Rutger  was  ripe  for  anything  new,  and  she  did 
not  like  her  stepmother.  She  was  easy  to  handle. 

"  Grace  was  vain  and  easily  influenced .  She  thought  she 
could  run  away  and  create  a  sensation  at  home,  and  come 

24 


370  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

back  after  a  while  to  astonish  the  natives  with  her  success 
as  an  actress. 

"  Nellie  Ewing  was  more  difficult  to  manage,  but  I  found 
out  that  she  was  desperately  in  love  with  Johnny  La  Porte. 
Johnny  had  begun  by  being  in  love  with  Nellie,  but  her  silly 
devotion  had  tired  him,  and  besides,  he  is  fickle  by  nature. 

"  I  told  Arch  that  if  we  got  Nellie,  it  would  have  to  be 
through  La  Porte.  Arch  knew  how  to  manage  La  Porte, 
who  was  vain,  and  prided  himself  upon  being  a  '  masher.' 
He  thought  to  be  mixed  up  in  a  sensational  love  affair, 
would  add  to  his  fame  as  a  dangerous  fellow.  He  sang  a 
good  tenor,  and  often  sang  duets  with  Nellie. 

"Louis  Brookhouse  had  a  chum  named  Ed.  Dwight; 
Ed.  had  been,  or  claimed  to  have  been,  a  song  and  dance 
man.  I  don't  think  he  was  ever  anything  more  than  an 
amateur,  but  he  was  perpetually  dancing  jigs,  and  singing 
comic  songs,  and  went  crazy  over  a  minstrel  show. 

"  Louis  used  to  take  Grace  out  for  an  occasional  drive, 
and  one  day  he  introduced  Ed.  to  Mamie. 

"  After  a  time,  Arch  and  Louis  thought  they  could  better 
their  original  plan.  Arch  is  a  shrewd  fellow,  with  a  strong 
will,  and  he  could  just  wind  Johnny  La  Porte  around  his 
finger.  Johnny  took  him  for  a  model,  for  Arch  was  a 
stylish  fellow,  who  knew  all  the  ropes,  and  had  seen  a  deal 
of  the  world  ;  and  Johnny,  while  he  had  been  a  sort  of 
prince  among  the  Grovelandcrs,  had  never  had  a  taste  of 
toAvn  life. 


AMY  HOLMES  CONFESSES.  3Vl 

"  Arch  managed  Johnny,  and  he  managed  Nellie  Ewing." 

She  paused,  and  something  in  her  face  made  me  say, 
sternly : 

"  How  did  Johnny  La  Porte  manage  Nellie  Ewing?" 
and  then  I  glanced  ominously  at  my  watch,  which  I  still 
held  in  my  hand. 

She  moved  uneasily,  and  averted  her  eyes. 

"  Nellie  was  conscientious,"  she  resumed,  reluctantly. 
"  She  had  all  sorts  of  scruples.  But  Johnny  told  her  that 
he  was  to  go  South  and  study  law  with  his  mother's  cousin, 
who  lived  in  New  Orleans.  He  said  that  he  dared  not 
marry  until  he  had  finished  his  studies,  but  if  she  would 
marry  him  privately,  and  keep  the  marriage  a  secret,  she 
could  go  South  and  they  would  not  be  separated. 

"She  agreed  to  this,  and  the  ceremony  was  performed. 
After  it  was  over,  he  told  her  that  he  had  just  discovered 
that  he  would  be  subject  to  arrest  under  some  new  marriage 
law,  and  that  they  would  be  separated  if  it  became  known. 

"  And  then  he  persuaded  her  to  come  here  before  him 
and  work  at  the  Little  Adelphi ;  telling  her  that  if  her 
father  found  her  there  they  would  not  suspect  him,  and  as 
soon  as  his  studies  were  over  he  would  claim  her  openly." 

Again  she  hesitated. 

"  And  was  this  precious  programme  carried  out  ?"  I  de- 
manded. 

"Yes.  It  was  a  long  time  before  Nellie  consented,  but 
a  little  cool  treatment  from  Johnny  brought  her  to  terms. 


372  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

She  got  away  very  nicely.  I  presume  you  know  something 
about  that." 

"Never  mind  what  I  know.  How  did  she  get  rid  of 
her  horse  after  leaving  Mrs.  Ballou's  house?" 

"  Not  far  from  Mrs.  Ballou's  there  is  a  small  pieee  of 
timber.  Johnny  was  there  with  his  team  and  he  had  a 
fellow  with  him  who  took  charge  of  the  pony.  Johnny 
drove  Nellia  ten  miles  towards  Amora,  driving  at  full 
speed,  Th'jre  Ed.  Dwight,  with  his  machine  wagon,  waited, 
and  Nellie  was  taken  by  Ed.  into  Amora.  On  the  way 
she  put  on  some  black  clothes  and  a  big  black  veil.  At 
Amora,  Louis  Brookhouse  was  waiting.  They  got  there 
just  in  time  to  catch  the  midnight  express,  and  were  almost 
at  their  journey's  end  before  Nellie  was  missed." 

"Stop.  You  have  said  that  Nellie  Ewing  has  not  been 
at  the  theater  of  late;  has  been  blue,  and  ill.  AVhat  has 
caused  all  this?" 

She  colored  hotly,  and  a  frightened  look  crept  into  her  eyes 

"You  are  not  to  hold  me  to  blame?" 

'  Not  if  you  answer  me  truly." 

"One  night  I  had  come  home  from  the  theater  with 
Nellie,  and  she  began  crying  because  Johnny  did  not  come 
as  he  had  promised,  and  did  not  write  often  enough.  1 
was  tired  and  cross,  and  I  suppose  I  had  taken  too  much 
wine.  I  forgot  myself,  and  told  her  that  Johnny  had  hired 
a  man  to  personate  a  parson,  and  that  she  was  not  married 
at  all.  She  broke  down  entirely  after  that. 


AMY  HOLMES  CONFESSES.  373 

I  sprang  to  my  feet,  for  the  moment  forgetting  that  the 
creature  before  me  was  a  woman.  I  wanted  to  take  her  by 
the  throat  and  fling  her  from  the  window. 

"Goon!"  I  almost  shouted.  "Goon;  my  patience  is 
lu-arly  exhausted.  Is  Xellie  Ewing  seriously  ill?" 

''She  is  fretting  and  pining;  she  thinks  she  is  dying,  and 
she  loves  Johnny  La  Porte  as  much  as  ever." 

"And  Mamie  Rutger?" 

"She  was  glad  to  run  away.  One  evening  when  every 
body  about  the  farm  was  busy,  she  waited  at  the  front  gate 
for  Ed.  D wight.  People  were  used  to  the  sight  of  his 
covered  wagon,  and  it  was  the  last  thing  to  suspect.  But 
Mamie  Rutger  went  from  her  father's  gate  in  that  wagon, 
and  she  and  Dwi^ht  drove  boldly  to  Sharon,  and  both  took 

O  v 

the  midnight  train  as  the  others  did  at  Amora. 

"Ed.  only  went  a  short  distance  with  Mamie;  he  came 
back  the  next  morning.  Mamie  was  plucky  enough  to 
come  on  alone." 

"And  then  you  and  Grace  Ballon  tried  to  elope?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  I  won't  trouble  you  to  tell  you  that  story.  1 
know  all  about  it.  Xow,  listen  to  me.  I  have  registered 
you  here  as  my  sister,  and  you  are  going  to  stay  here  for 
one  week  a  prisoner.  You  are  to  speak  to  no  one,  write  to 
no  one.  You  will  be  constantly  watched,  and  if  you  at- 
tempt to  disobey  me  you  know  the  consequences.  As 
soon  as  Mr.  Rutger  and  'Squire  Ewing  arrive  I  will  set 


374  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

you  at  liberty,  and  no  one  shall  harm  you;  but  until  then 
you  must  remain  in  your  own  room,  and  see  no  one  except 
in  my  presence." 

"  But  you  promised — " 

"  I  shall  keep  my  promise,  but  choose  my  own  time." 

"  But  the  theater—" 

"  You  can  write  them  a  note  stating  that  you  are  going 
to  leave  the  city  for  a  little  recreation.  You  may  send  a 
similar  note  to  Mamie  and  Nellie." 

"  You  are  not  treating  me  fairly." 

"  I  am  treating  you  better  than  you  deserve.  Did  you 
dj;il  fairly  at  Amora  and  Groveland  ?  If  E  were  not 
morally  sure  that  such  crimes  as  yours  must  be  punished 
sooner  or  later,  I  should  not  dare  set  you  free." 


JOHNNY  LA  PORTE  IS  BROUGHT  TO  BOOK.  375 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

JOIIXXY  LA  PORTE  IS  BROUGHT  TO  BOOK. 

That  is  how  Miss  Amy  Holmes  was  brought  to  judg- 
ment. I  had  managed  her  by  stratagem,  and  extracted  the 
truth  from  her  under  false  pretenses.  The  weapon  that  I 
brandished  above  her  head  was  a  reed  of  straws,  but  it 
sufficed.  My  pretended  knowledge  of  her  past  history  had 
served  my  purpose. 

What  her  secret  really  was,  and  is,  I  neither  know  nor 
care.  She  is  a  woman,  and  when  a  woman  has  stepped 
down  from  her  pedestal  the  world  is  all  against  her.  The 
law  may  safely  trust  such  sinners  and  their  punishment 
to  Dame  Xature,  who  never  errs,  and  never  forgives,  and 
to  Time,  who  is  the  sternest  of  all  avengers. 

After  hearing  her  story,  I  sent  my  second  telegram  to 
you,  and  then  my  third ;  and  after  assuring  myself  that 
the  girl  had  told  the  truth  concerning  Nellie  Ewing,  I 
telegraphed  to  the  office,  giving  the  hints  which  Wyman 
acted  on. 

I  should  not  have  liked  Wyman's  task  of  going  to  those 
t\vo  honest  farmers  and  telling  them  the  truth  concerning 
their  daughters;  but  I  should  not  have  been  averse  to  the 
other  work. 


376  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

I  can  imagine  Johnny  La  Porte,  under  the  impression 
that  he  was  preparing  for  a  day's  lark,  oiling  his  curly  locks, 
scenting  his  pocket  handkerchief,  and  driving  Wyman, 
in  whom  he  thought  he  had  found  a  boon  companion,  to 
Sharon,  actually  flying  into  the  arms  of  the  avengers,  at  the 
heels  of  his  own  roadsters.  I  should  have  driven  over  that 
ten  miles  of  country  road,  had  I  been  in  Wyman's  place, 
bursting  with  glee,  growing  fat  on  the  stupidity  of  the 
sleek  idiot  at  my  side. 

But  Wyman  is  a  modest  fellow,  and  given  to  seeing  only 
the  severe  side  of  things,  and  he  says  there  is  no  glory  in 
trapping  a  fool.  Possibly  he  is  right. 

I  should  like  to  have  seen  Johnny  La  Porte  when  he 
was  brought,  unexpectedly,  before  'Squire  Ewing  and 
Farmer  Rutger,  to  be  charged  with  his  villainy,  and  offered 
one  chance  for  his  life.  He  had  heard  the  Grovelanders 
talk,  and  he  knew  that  the  despoilers  of  those  two  Grove- 
land  homes  had  been  dedicated  to  Judge  Lynch. 

Small  wonder  that  he  was  terror-stricken  before  these 
two  fathers,  and  that  under  the  lash  of  Wyman's  eloquence 
he  already  felt  the  cord  tightening  about  his  throat. 

I  don't  wonder  that  he  whined  and  grovelled  and  sub- 
mitted, abjectly,  to  their  demands.  But  I  do  wonder  that 
those  two  fathers  could  let  him  out  of  their  hands  alive; 
and  I  experienced  a  thrill  of  ecstacy  when  I  learned  that 
Wyman  kicked  him  three  times,  with  stout  boots! 

That  must  have  been  an  unpleasant  journey  to  New 


JOHNNY  LA  PORTE  IS  BROUGHT  TO  BOOK.  077 

Orleans.  The  two  farmers,  stern,  silent,  heavy  of  heart, 
and  filled  with  anxiety.  La  Porte,  who  was  taken  in  hand 
by  Wyman,  writhing  under  the  torments  of  his  own  con- 
science and  his  own  terror,  and  compelled  to  submit  to  his 
guardian's  frequent  tirades  of  scorn  and  contempt,  treated, 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  like  the  poltroon  he  was. 

I  found  the  t\vo  girls  at  the  address  given  by  Amy 
Holmes ;  and,  more  to  spare  the  two  farmers  the  sight  of 
her,  than  for  her  sake,  I  did  not  compel  her  to  repeat  her 
story  in  their  presence,  but  related  it  myself  instead. 

It's  not  worth  while  to  attempt  a  description  of  the 
meeting  between  the  two  girls  and  their  parents.  Mamie 
was,  at  first,  inclined  to  rebel ;  but  Nellie  Ewing  broke 
down  completely,  and  begged  to  be  taken  home.  She  was 
pale  and  emaciated,  a  sad  and  pitiful  creature.  Her  father 
was  overcome  with  grief  at  sight  of  the  change  in  her.  He 
could  not  trust  himself  to  speak  to  her  of  Johnny  La 
Porte;  and  so — what  a  Jack  of  all  trades  a  detective  is — he 
called  me  from  the  room  and  delegated  to  me  the  unpleas- 
ant task. 

I  did  it  as  well  as  I  could.  I  told  her  as  gently  as  pos- 
sible that  Johnny  La  Porte  was  in  New  Orleans,  and  asked 
if  she  wanted  to  see  him.  She  cried  for  joy,  poor  child, 
and  begged  me  to  send  for  him  at  once.  And  then  I  told 
her  why  we  had  brought  him ;  he  was  prepared  to  make 
what  reparation  he  could.  Did  she  wish  him  to  make  her 
his  wife?  She  interrupted  me  with  a  joyful  cry. 


378  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"  Would  he  do  that  ?  Oh,  then  she  could  go  home  and 
die  happy." 

In  that  moment  I  made  a  mental  vow  that  this  dying 
girl,  if  she  could  be  made  any  happier  by  it,  should  have 
not  only  the  name  of  the  young  scoundrel  she  so  foolishly 
loved,  but  his  care  and  companionship  as  well. 

I  assured  her  that  he  was  ready  to  make  her  his  lawful 
wife,  but  could  not  tell  her  that  he  did  it  under  compulsion. 

After  a  long  talk  with  'Squire  Ewing,  during  which  I 
persuaded  him  to  think  first  of  his  daughter's  needs,  and 
to  make  such  use  of  Johnny  La  Porte  as  would  best  serve 
her,  I  went  back  to  the  hotel,  where  we  had  left  the  young 
scamp  in  charge  of  AVyman,  and  a  little  later  in  the  day 
the  ceremony  was  performed  which  made  Johnny  La  Porte 
the  husband  of  the  girl  he  had  sought  to  ruin. 

Not  long  after  this  I  invited  the  young  man  to  a  tctc-d- 
tete,  and  he  followed  me  somewhat  ungraciously  into  a  room 
adjoining  that  in  which  his  new  wife  lay. 

"Sit  down,"  I  said,  curtly,  motioning  him  to  a  chair 
opposite  tlrjone  in  which  I  seated  myself.  "  Sit  down.  I 
want  to  give  you  a  little  advice  concerning  your  future 
conduct." 

He  threw  back  his  head  defiantly ;  evidently  he  believed 
that  he  was  now  secure  from  further  annoyance,  and  no 
longer  within  reach  of  law  and  justice. 

"  I  don't  need  your  advice,"  he  said,  pettishly.  "  I  have 
done  all  that  you,  or  any  one  else,  can  require  of  me." 


JOHNNY  LA  PORTE  IS  BROUGHT  TO  BOOK.  379 

"  Mistaken  youth,  your  conformity  with  my  wishes  is 
but  now  begun." 

"You  can't  bully  me,  now,"  he  retorted.  "I  have 
married  the  girl,  and  that's  enough." 

"  It  is  not  enough  !  it  is  not  all  that  you  will  do." 

"  You  are  a  liar." 

I  took  him  by  the  shoulders,  and  lifting  him  fairly  off 
his  feet  shook  him  as  a  terrier  shakes  a  rat.  Then  I  popped 
him  down  upon  the  chair  he  had  refused  to  occupy,  and 
said  : 

"There,  you  impudent  little  dunce,  if  you  want  to  call 
me  any  more  names,  don't  hesitate.  Now,  hear  me ;  you 
will  do  precisely  what  I  bid  you,  now,  and  hereafter,  or 
you  will  exchange  that  smart  plaid  suit  for  one  adorned 
with  horizontal  stripes,  and  I'll  have  that  curly  pate  of 
yours  as  bare  as  a  cocoanut." 

"  The  law,"— he  began. 

"  The  law  may  permit  you  to  break  the  marriage  vow 
you  have  just  taken,  but  /will  not." 

"  You  ?"  incredulously. 

"Yes,  J,"  I  retorted,  firmly.  "The  law  of  this  mighty 
country,  made  by  very  wise  men,  and  enacted  by  very 
great  fools,  is  a  wondrous  vixen.  You  have  stolen  'Squire 
Swing's  daughter,  and  for  that  the  law  permits  you  to 
go  unhung.  You  have  stolen  'Squire  Ewing's  horse,  and 
for  that,  the  law  will  put  you  in  the  State's  prison." 

"  His  horse — I ! — "  the  poor  wretch  gasped,  helplessly. 


380  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"  Exactly.  The  horse  !  and  you  !  You  see,  the  daughter 
has  been  found,  but  the  horse  has  not" 

"  But— I  can  prove—" 

"  You  can  prove  nothing.  I  know  all  about  the  affair. 
You  carried  Nellie  Ewing  away  in  your  own  carriage. 
You  handed  her  pony  over  to  an  accomplice.  I  have,  at  my 
finger's  ends,  testimony  enough  to  condemn  you  before  any 
jury,  and  the  only  thing  that  can  save  you  from  the  fate 
of  a  common  horse-thief,  is — your  own  good  behavior." 

"  What  do  you  want?"  he  said,  abjectly. 

"  I  want  to  see  you  hung  as  high  as  Haman.  But  that 
poor  girl  in  the  next  room  wants  something  different,  and 
I  yield  my  wishes  to  hers.  She  is  so  foolish  as  to  value 
your  miserable  existence,  and  so  I  give  you  this  one  chance. 
Go  home  with  your  wife,  not  to  your  home,  but  hers,  and 
remain  there  so  long  as  she  needs  or  wants  you.  Treat 
her  with  tenderness,  serve  her  like  a  slave,  and  try  thus  to 
atone  for  some  of  your  past  villainy.  Quit  your  old  as- 
sociates, be  as  decent  and  dutiful  as  the  evil  within  will  let 
you.  So  long  as  I  hear  no  complaint,  so  long  as  your  wife 
is  made  happy,  you  are  safe.  Commit  one  act  of  cruelty, 
unkindness,  or  neglect,  and  your  fate  is  scaled.  And,  re- 
member this,  if  you  attempt  to  run  away,  I  will  bring  you 
back,  if  I  have  to  bring  you  dead." 

He  whined,  he  blustered,  he  writhed  like  a  cur  under 
the  lash.  But  he  was  conquered.  'Squire  Ewing  behaved 
most  judiciously.  Poor Nelliewas  foolishly  happy.  Mamie 


"  I  took  him  by  the  shoulders,  and  lifting  him  fairly  off  his  feet 
shook  him  as  a  terrier  shakes  a  rat." — paee  379. 

381 


JOHNNY  LA  PORTE  IS  BROUGHT  TO  BOOK.  383 

Rutger,  too,  became  our  ally,  and,  after  a  time,  La  Porte, 
who  loved  his  ease  above  all  things,  seemed  resigned,  or 
resolved  to  make  the  best  of  the  situation.  I  think,  too, 
that  he  was,  in  his  way,  fond  of  his  poor  little  wife.  Per- 
haps his  conscience  troubled  him,  for  when  a  physician  was 
called  in  by  the  anxious  father,  her  case  was  pronounced 
serious,  and  the  chances  for  her  recovery  less  than  three  in 
ten.  The  physician  advised  them  to  take  her  North  at 
once,  and  they  hastened  to  obey  his  instructions. 

Our  next  care  was  to  quiet  Fred  Brookhouse,  for  the 
present,  and  punish  him,  as  much  as  might  be,  for  the 
future. 

Accordingly,  Brookhouse  was  arrested,  on  a  trumped-up 
charge,  and  locked  up  in  the  city  jail,  and  then  Wyman 
and  myself  gave  to  the  Chief  of  police  and  the  Mayor  of 
the  city,  a  detailed  account  of  his  scheme  to  provide  attrac- 
tions for  his  theater,  and  took  other  measures  to  insure  for 
the  Little  Adelphi  a  closer  surveillance  than  would  be  at 
all  comfortable  or  welcome  to  the  enterprising  manager. 

Brookhouse  was  held  in  jail  until  we  were  out  of  the  city, 
and  far  on  our  way  Northward,  thus  insuring  us  against  the 
possibility  of  his  telegraphing  the  alarm  to  any  one  who 
might  communicate  it  to  Arch,  or  Ed.  Dwight,  and  then, 
there  being  no  one  to  appear  against  him,  at  the  proper 
time,  he  was  released. 

Amy  Holmes  remained  a  prisoner  at  the  hotel,  conduct- 
ing herself  quite  properly  during  the  time  of  her  com- 


384  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

pulsory  sojourn  there ;  and  on  the  day  of  our  departure  I 
paid  her  a  sum  equivalent  to  the  week's  salary  she  had  lost, 
and  bade  her  go  her  way,  having  first  obtained  her  promise 
that  she  would  not  communicate  with  any  of  her  accom- 
plices; a  promise  which  I  took  good  care  to  convince  her 
it  would  be  safest  to  keep. 

She  was  not  permitted  to  see  either  Mamie  or  Nellie,  and 
she  had  no  desire  to  see  the  other  members  of  the  home- 
ward-bound party.  And  thus  ended  our  case  in  New 
Orleans. 


HOW  DR.  BETHEL  WAS  WARNED.  385 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

HOW  BETHEL    WAS    WARNED. 

While  Carnes  was  solving  the  Groveland  problem,  in 
that  far-away  Southern  city,  we,  who  were  in  Trafton, 
were  living  through  a  long,  dull  week  of  waiting. 

There  were  two  dreary  days  of  suspense,  during  which 
Carl  Bethel  and  Dr.  Denham  wrestled  with  the  deadly 
fever  fiend,  the  one  unconsciously,  the  other  despairingly. 
But  when  the  combat  was  over,  the  doctor  stood  at  his  post 
triumphant,  and  "Death,  the  Terrible,"  went  away  from 
the  cottage  without  a  victim. 

Then  I  began  to  importune  the  good  doctor. 

"  When  would  Bethel  be  able  to  talk  ?  at  least  to  answer 
questions?  For  it  was  important  that  I  should  ask,  and 
that  he  should  answer  one  at  least." 

I  received  the  reward  I  might  have  expected  had  I  been 
wise.  "Our  old  woman"  turned  upon  me  with  a  tirade  of 
whimsical  wrath,  that  was  a  mixture  of  sham  and  real, 
and  literally  turned  me  out  of  doors,  banished  me  three 
whole  days  from  the  sick  room ;  and  so  great  was  his  as- 
cendancy over  Jim  Long,  that  even  lie  refused  to  listen  to 
my  plea  for  admittance,  and  kept  me  at  a  distance,  with 

grim  good  nature. 

25     *17 


386  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

At  last,  however,  the  day  came  when  "  our  old  woman" 
signified  his  willingness  to  allow  me  an  interview,  stipulat- 
ing, however,  that  it  must  be  very  brief  and  in  his  presence. 

"Bethel  is  better,"  he  said,  eyeing  me  severely,  "but  he 
can't  bear  excitement.  If  you  think  you  must  interview 
him,  I  suppose  you  must,  but  mind,  /  think  it's  all  bosh. 
Detectives  are  a  miserable  tribe  through  and  through.  Is 
not  that  so,  Long  ?" 

And  Jim,  who  was  present  on  this  occasion,  solemnly 
agreed  with  him. 

And  so  the  day  came  when  I  sat  by  Bethel's  bedside  and 
held  his  weak,  nerveless  hand  in  my  o\vn,  while  I  looked 
regretfully  at  the  pallid  face,  and  into  the  eyes  darkened 
and  made  hollow  by  pain. 

The  weak  hand  gave  mine  a  friendly  but  feeble  pressure. 
The  pale  lips  smiled  with  their  old  cordial  friendliness,  the 
eyes  brightened,  as  he  said  : 

"Louise  has  told  me  how  good  you  have  been,  you  and 
Long." 

"Stuff,"  interrupted  Dr.  Denham.  "He  good,  indeed; 
stuff!  stuff!  Now,  look  here,  young  man,  you  can  talk 
with  my  patient  just  five  minutes,  then — out  you  go." 

"  Very  well,"  I  retorted,  "  then  see  that  you  don't 
monopolize  four  minutes  out  of  the  five.  Bethel,  you  may 
not  be  aware  of  it,  but,  that  cross  old  gentleman  and  myself 
are  old  acquaintances,  and,  I'll  tell  you  a  secret,  we,  that 
is  myself  and  some  friends, — " 


"And  so  the  day  came  when  I  sat  by  Bethel's  bedside  and  held 
his  weak,  nerveless  hand  in  my  own." — page  3SG. 

387 


HOW  BETHEL  WAS  WARNED.  389 

"  A  rascally  lot,"  broke  in  the  old  doctor,  "  a  rascally 
lot!" 

"We  call  him,"  I  persisted,  "our  old  woman!" 

"Humph!"  sniffed  the  old  gentleman,  "upstarts!  'old 
woman,'  indeed !" 

But  it  was  evident  that  he  was  not  displeased  with  his 
nickname  in  the  possessive  case. 

We  had  judged  it  best  to  withhold  the  facts  concerning 
our  recent  discoveries,  especially  those  relating  to  his 
would-be  assassin,  from  Bethel,  until  he  should  be  better 
able  to  bear  excitement.  And  so,  after  I  had  finished  my 
tilt  with  the  old  doctor,  and  expressed  my  regret  for 
Bethel's  calamity,  and  my  joy  at  his  prospective  recovery, 
I  said : 

"I  have  been  forbidden  the  house,  Bethel,  by  your  two 
dragons  here,  and  now,  I  am  only  permitted  a  few  moments' 
talk  with  you.  So  I  shall  be  obliged  to  skip  the  details; 
you  shall  have  them  all  soon,  however.  But  I  will  tell  you 
something.  We  are  having  things  investigated  here,  and, 
for  the  benefit  of  a  certain  detective,  I  want  you  to  answer 
me  a  question.  You  possess  some  professional  knowledge 
which  may  help  to  solve  a  riddle." 

"  What  is  your  question  ?"  he  whispers,  with  a  touch  of 
his  natural  decisiveness. 

"One  night,  nearly  two  weeks  ago,"  I  began,  "you  and 
I  were  about  to  renew  an  interview,  which  had  been  in- 
terrupted, when  the  second  interruption  came  in  the  shape 


390  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

of  a  call,  from  'Squire  Brookhouse,  who  asked  you  to  ac- 
company him  home,  and  attend  to  his  son,  who,  so  he  said, 
had  received  some  sort  of  injury." 

"I  remember." 

"Was  your  patient  Louis  Brookhouse?" 

"Yes." 

"Did  you  dress  a  wound  for  him?" 

He  looked  at  me  wonderingly  and  was  silent. 

"Bethel,  I  am  tracing  a  crime;  if  your  professional 
scruples  will  not  permit  you  to  answer  me,  I  must  find  out 
by  other  means  what  you  can  easily  tell  me.  But  to  resort 
to  other  measures  will  consume  time  that  is  most  valuable, 
and  might  arouse  the  suspicions  of  guilty  parties.  You 
can  tell  me  all  that  I  wish  to  learn  by  answering  my  ques- 
tion with  a  simple  'Yes/  or  'No.' ' 

While  Bethel  continued  to  gaze  wonderingly,  my  recent 
antagonist  came  to  my  assistance. 

"You  may  as  well  answer  him,  boy,"  "  our  old  woman" 
said.  "If  you  don't,  some  day  he'll  be  accusing  you  of  in- 
gratitude. And  then  this  is  one  of  the  very  rare  instances 
when  the  scamp  may  put  his  knowledge  to  good  use." 

Bethel  looked  from  the  doctor's  face  to  mine,  and  smiled 
faintly. 

"I  am  overpowered  by  numbers,"  he  said;  "put  your 
questions,  then."  • 

"Did  you  dress  a  wound  for  Louis  Brookhouse?" 

"Yes." 


HOW  BETHEL  A\'AS  WAKNED.  39 i 

"A  wound  in  the  le<r?" 

O 

"  Yes,  the  riglit  leg." 

"Was  it  a  bullet  wound?" 

"Yes." 

"  Did  you  extract  the  ball?" 

"I  did." 

"Who  has  it?" 

"I.     Nobody    seemed    to    notice    it.     I    put    it  in  my 
pocket." 

"Brookhousc  said  that  his  wound  was  caused  by  an  ac- 
cident, I  suppose?" 

"Ye.-;,  aa  accidental  discharge  of  his  own  pistol." 

"  Some  one  had  tried  to  dress  the  wound,  had  they  not?" 

"Yes,  it  had  been  sponged  and — 

"  And  bound  with  a  fine  cambric  handkerchief,"  I  inter- 
rupted. 

"  Yes,"  with  a  stare  of  surprise,  "  so  it  was." 

"  How  old  was  the  wound,  when  you  saw  it  ?" 

"  Twenty-four  hours,  at  least." 

"Was  it  serious?" 

"  Xo ;  only  a   flesh   wound,  but  a  deep  one.     He  had 
ought  to  be  out  by  this  time." 

"  Can  you  show  me  the   bullet,  sometime,  if  I  wish  to 
see  it?" 

"  Yes." 

My  five   minutes  had   already   passed,  but  "  our  old 
woman"  sat  with  a  look  of  puzzled  interest  on  his  face,  and 


392  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH, 

as  Bethel  was  quite  calm,  though  none  the  less  mystified,  I 
took  advantage  of  the  situation,  and  hurried  on. 

"  Bethel,  I  want  to  ask  you  something  concerning  your 
own  hurt,  now.  Will  it  disturb  or  excite  you  to  answer?" 

"  No  ;  it  might  relieve  me." 

"  This  time  I  will  save  you  words.  On  the  night  when 
you  received  your  wound,  you  were  sitting  by  your  table, 
reading  by  the  light  of  the  student's  lamp,  and  smoking 
luxuriously ;  the  door  was  shut,  but  the  front  window  was 
open." 

"True!"  with  a  look  of  deepening  amazement. 

"  You  heard  the  sound  of  wheels  on  the  gravel  outside, 
and  then  some  one  called  your  name." 

"Oh!"  a  new  look  creeping  into  his  eyes. 

"  When  you  opened  the  door  and  looked  out,  could  you 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  man  who  shot  at  you?" 

"  No,"  slowly,  as  if  thinking. 

"  Have  you  any  reason  for  suspecting  any  one?  Can  you 
guess  at  a  motive?" 

"Wait;"  he  turned  his  head  restlessly,  seemingly  in  the 
effort  to  remember  something,  and  then  looked  toward  Dr. 
Denham. 

"  In  my  desk,"  he  said,  slowly,  "  among  some  loose  letters, 
is  a  yellow  envelope,  bearing  the  Trafton  post-mark. 
Will  you  find  it?" 

Dr.  Denham  went  to  the  desk,  and  I  sat  silently  wait- 
ing. Bethel  was  evidently  thinking. 


HOW  BETHEL  WAS  WARNED.  393 

"  I  received  it,"  he  said,  after  a  moment  of  silence,  dis- 
turbed only  by  the  rustling  of  papers,  as  the  old  doctor 
searched  the  desk,  "  I  received  it  two  days  after  the  search 
for  little  Effie  Beale.  I  made  up  my  mind  then  that  I 
would  have  a  detective,  whom  I  could  rely  upon,  here  in 
Traftou.  And  then  Dr.  Barnard  was  taken  ill.  After 
that  I  waited — have  you  found  it?" 

Dr.  Denham  stood  beside  me  with  a  letter  in  his  hand, 
which  Bethel,  by  a  sign,  bade  him  give  to  me. 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  read  it?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes." 

I  glanced  at  the  envelope  and  almost  bounded  from  my 
seat.  Then,  withdrawing  the  letter  with  nervous  haste,  I 
opened  it. 

Dr.  Bethel.  If  thai  is  your  name,  you  are  not  welcome  in  Traf- 
ton.  If  you  stay  here  three  days  longer,  it  will  be  AT  YOUR  OWN  RISK. 

No  resurrectionists. 

I  flushed  with  excitement ;  I  almost  laughed  with  de- 
light. I  got  up,  turned  around,  and  sat  down  again.  I 
wanted  to  dance,  to  shout,  to  embrace  the  dear  old  doctor. 

I  held  in  my  hand  a  printed  warning,  every  letter  the 
counterpart  of  those  used  in  the  anonymous  letter  sent  to 
"  Chris  Oleson"  at  Mrs.  Ballou's  !  It  was  a  similar  warn- 
ing, written  by  the  same  hand.  Was  the  man  who  had 
given  me  that  pistol  wound  really  in  Trafton  ?  or — 

I  looked  up ;  the  patient  on  the  bed,  and  the  old  doctor 


394  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

beside  me,  were  both  gazing  at  my  tell-tale  countenance, 
and  looking  expectant  and  eager. 

"Doctor,"  I  said,  turning  to  "our  old  woman,"  "you 
remember  the  day  I  came  to  you  with  my  wounded 
arm  ?" 

"  Umph !     Of  course." 

"  Well,  shortly  before  getting  that  wound  I  received  just 
such  a  thing  as  this,"  striking  the  letter  with  my  forefinger, 
"a  warning  from  the  same  hand.  And  now  I  am  going 
to  find  the  man  who  shot  mc}  who  shot  Bethel,  and  who 
robbed  the  grave  of  little  Effie  Beale,  here,  in  Trafton, 
and  very  soon." 

"What  is  it?     I  don't  understand,"  began  Bethel. 

But  the  doctor  interposed. 

"  This  must  be  stopped.  Bethel,  you  shan't  hear  ex- 
planations now,  and  you  shall  go  to  sleep.  Bathurst,  how 
dare  you  excite  my  patient !  Get  out." 

"I  will,"  I  said,  rising.  "I  must  keep  this  letter, 
Bethel,  and  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it  soon ;  have 
patience." 

Bethel  turned  his  eyes  toward  the  doctor,  and  said, 
eagerly : 

"Why  did  you  call  him  Bathurst  f 

"Did  I?"  said  the  old  man/testily.  "It  was  a  slip  of 
the  tongue." 

The  patient  turned  his  head  and  looked  from  one  to  the 
other,  eagerly.  Then  he  addressed  me  : 


HOW  BETHEL  WAS  WARNED.  395 

"  If  you  will  answer  me  one  question,  I  promise  not  to 
ask  another  until  you  are  prepared  to  explain." 

"  Ask  it,"  I  replied. 

"  Are  you  a  detective  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Thank  you,"  closing  his  eyes,  as  if  weary.  "  I  am 
quite  content  to  wait.  Thank  you." 


396  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

WE  PREPARE  FOR  A  "PARTY." 

My  first  movement,  after  having  made  the  discovery 
chronicled  in  the  last  chapter,  was  to  go  to  the  telegraph 
office  and  send  the  following  despatch: 

Anvst  Blake  Simpson  instantly,  on  charge  of  attempted  assass- 
ination. Don't  allow  him  to  communicate  with  any  one. 

This  message  was  sent  to  the  Agency,  and  then  I  turned 
my  attention  to  other  matters,  satisfied  that  Blake,  at  least, 
would  be  properly  attended  to. 

Early  the  following  morning  Gerry  Brown  presented 
himself  at  the  door  of  my  room,  to  communicate  to  me 
something  that  instantly  roused  me  to  action. 

At  midnight,  or  a  little  later,  Mr.  Arch  Brookhotise  had 
dropped  in  at  the  telegraph  office;  he  was  in  evening  dress, 
and  he  managed  to  convey  to  Gerry  in  a  careless  fashion 
the  information  that  he,  Arch,  had  been  enjoying  himself 
at  a  small  social  gathering,  and  on  starting  for  home  had 
bethought  himself  of  a  message  to  be  sent  to  a  friend. 
Then  he  had  dashed  off  the  following: 

ED.  DWIGHT,  Amora,  etc. 

Be  ready  for  the  party  at  the  Corners  to-morrow  eve.  Notify 
Lark.  B. —  will  join  you  at  Amora.  A.  B. 


WE  PREPARE  FOR  A  "  PARTY. 


"  There/'  he  had  said,  as  lie  pushed  the  message  toward 
the  seemingly  .sleepy  operator,  "  I  hope  he  will  get  that  in 
time,  as  I  send  it  in  behalf  of  a  lady.  Dwight's  always  in 
demand  for  parties." 

Then,  with  a  condescending  smile  as  he  drew  on  his  right 
glove,  "Know  anybody  at  Amora?" 

"No,"  responded  Gerry,  with  a  yawn,  "nor  anywhere 
else  on  this  blasted  line;  wish  they  had  sent  me  East." 

"You  must  get  acquainted,"  said  the  gracious  young 
nabob.  "I'll  try  and  get  you  an  invitation  to  the  next 
social  party ;  should  be  happy  to  introduce  you." 

And  then,  as  Gerry  was  too  sleepy  to  properly  appreciate 
his  condescension,  he  had  taken  himself  away. 

"Gerry,"  I  said,  after  pondering  for  some  moments 
over  the  message  he  had  copied  for  my  benefit,  "  I'm  in- 
clined to  think  that  this  means  business.  You  had  better 
sleep  short  and  sound  this  morning,  ami  be  on  hand  at  the 
office  as  early  as  twelve  o'clock.  I  think  you  will  be  re- 
lieved from  this  sort  of  duty  soon,  and  as  for  Mr.  Brook- 
house,  perhaps  you  may  be  able  to  attend  this  ( party'  in 
question,  even  without  his  valuable  patronage." 

After  this  I  went  in  search  of  Jim  Long.  I  found  him 
at  Bethel's  cottage,  and  in  open  defiance  of  "our  old 
woman,"  led  him  away  where  we  could  converse  without 
audience  or  interruption.  Then  I  put  the  telegram  in  his 
hand,  telling  him  how  it  had  been  sent,  much  as  Gerry 
had  told  the  same  to  me." 


398  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  it  ?"  asked  Jim,  as  he  slowly 
folded  the  slip  of  paper  and  put  it  in  my  hand. 

"Well,  I  may  be  amiss  in  my  interpretation,  but  it  seems 
to  me  that  we  had  better  be  awake  to-night.  The  moon 
has  waned ;  it  will  be  very  dark  at  ten  o'clock.  I  fancy 
that  we  may  be  wise  if  we  prepare  for  this  party.  I  don't 

know  who  B may  stand  for,  but  there  is,  at  Clyde,  a 

man,  who  is  a  friend  of  Dwight's,  and  whose  name  is 
Larkins" 

"  Larkins  !     To  be  sure ;  the  man  is  often  in  Trafton." 

"Exactly.  He  appears  like  a  good-natured  rustic,  but 
he  is  a  good  judge  of  a  horse.  Do  you  know  of  a  place  in 
this  vicinity  called  The  Corners?" 

"  No." 

"  Well,  you  are  probably  aware  that  the  south  road  forks, 
just  two  miles  north  of  Clyde,  and  that  the  road  running 
east  goes  to  the  river,  and  the  coal  beds.  It  would  not  be 
a  long  drive  from  Amora  to  these  corners,  and  Larkins  is 
only  two  miles  off  from  them.  Both  Dwight  and  Larkins 
own  good  teams." 

"Ah!"  ejaculated  Jim,  in  a  tone  which  conveyed  a  world 
of  meaning.  "Ah,  yes!"  Then  after  a  moment's  si- 
lence, and  looking  me  squarely  in  the  face,  "  what  do  you 
want  me  to  do  ?" 

"  Our  movements  must  be  regulated  by  theirs.  AVe  must 
see  Warren  and  all  the  others." 

"All?" 


WE  PREPARE  FOR  A    "  PARTY.7'  399 

"  Yes,  all.  It  will  not  be  child's  play.  I  think  Mr. 
Warren  is  the  man  to  lead  one  party,  for  there  must  be 
two.  I,  myself,  will  manage  the  other.  As  for  you  and 
Gerry—" 

"  Gerry  ?"  inquiringly. 

"Gerald  Brown,  our  night  operator.  You  will  find  him 
equal  to  most  emergencies,  I  think." 

"  And  what  are  we  to  do  ?" 

"Some  special  business  which  will  depend  on  circum- 
stances. We  must  capture  the  gang  outside  of  the  town, 
if  possible,  and  the  farther  away  the  better." 

"  But—" 

"Wait.  There  are  others  who  must  not  take  the  alarm 
too  soon." 

"  They  will  ride  fleet  horses-,  remember  that." 

"  Long,"  I  said,  earnestly,  "  we  won't  let  them  escape 
us.  If  they  ride,  we  will  pounce  upon  them  at  the  very 
outset.  But  if  my  theory,  which  has  thus  far  proven  itself 
correct,  holds  good  to  the  end  they  will  not  ride" 


OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

SOMETHING  THE  MOON  FAILED  TO  SEE. 

It  has  conic  at  last ;  that  night,  almost  the  last  in  August, 
which  I  and  others,  with  varying  motives  and  interests, 
have  so  anxiously  looked  forward  to. 

It  has  come,  and  the  moon,  so  lately  banished  from  the 
heavens,  had  she  been  in  a  position  to  overlook  the  earth, 
would  have  witnessed  some  sights  unusual  to  Trafton  at 
the  hour  of  eleven  p.  M. 

A  little  more  than  a  mile  from  Trafton,  at  a  point  where 
the  first  mile  section  crosses  the  south  road,  not  far  from 
the  Brookhouse  dwelling,  there  is  a  little  gathering  of 
mounted  men.  They  are  seven  in  number ;  all  silent,  all 
cautious  all  stern  of  feature.  They  have  drawn  their  horses 
far  into  the  gloom  of  the  hedge  that  grows  tall  on  either 
side,  all  save  one  man,  and  he  stands  in  the  very  center  of 
the  road,  looking  intently  north  and  skyward. 

Farther  away,  midway  between  Trafton  and  Clyde,  six 
other  horsemen  are  riding  southward  at  an  easy  pace. 

These,  too,  are  very  quiet,  and  a  little  light  would  reveal 
the  earnest  faces  of  Messrs.  Warren,  Harding,  Bcnner, 
Booth,  Jaeger  and  Meacham ;  the  last  mentioned  being 


SOMETHING  THE  MOON  FAILED  TO  SEE.  401 

the  owner  of  the  recently  stolen  matched  sorrels,  and  the 
others  being  the  most  prominent  and  reliable  of  the  Trafton 
vigilante. 

A  close  inspection  would  develop  the  fact  that  this  mov- 
ing band  of  men,  as  well  as  the  party  whose  present  mission 
seems  "  only  to  stand  and  wait/'  is  well  armed  and  strongly 
mounted. 

The  Hill,  Miss  Manvers'  luxurious  residence,  stands,  as 
its  name  indicates,  on  an  elevation  of  ground,  at  the  extreme 
northern  boundary  of  Trafton. 

It  stands  quite  alone,  this  abode  of  the  treasure-ship 
heiress,  having  no  neighbors  on  either  hand  for  a  distance 
of  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 

The  road  leading  up  the  hill  from  the  heart  of  Trafton, 
is  bordered  on  either  side  by  a  row  of  shade  trees,  large 
and  leafy.  All  about  the  house  the  shrubbery  is  dense, 
and  the  avenue,  leading  up  from  the  road,  and  past  the 
dwelling,  to  the  barns  and  outhouses,  is  transformed,  by 
two  thickly-set  rows  of  poplars  into  a  vault  of  inky 
blackness. 

To-night,  if  the  moon  were  abroad,  she  might  note  that 
the  fine  roadster  driven  by  Arch  Brookhouse  had  stood 
all  the  evening  at  the  roadside  gate  at  the  foot  of  the  dark 
avenue  of  poplars,  and,  by  peeping  through  the  open  win- 
dows, she  would  see  that  Arch  Brookhouse  himself  sits  in 
the  handsome  parlor  with  the  heiress,  who  is  looking  paleand 
dissatisfied,  and  who  speaks  short  and  seldom,  opposite  him. 

26 


402  OUT  OF    A  LABYRINTH. 

The  lady  moon  might  also  note  that  the  new  telegraph 
operator  is  hot  at  his  post,  in  the  little  office,  at  eleven 
o'clock  p.  M.  But  then,  were  the  fair  orb  of  night  actually 
out,  and  taking  observations,  these  singular  phenomena 
might  not  occur. 

At  half-past  ten,  on  "this  night  of  nights,"  three  shadows 
steal  through  the  darkness,  moving  northward  toward 
the  Hill. 

At  a  point  midway  between  the  town  proper  and  the 
mansion  beyond,  is  a  junction  of  the  roads;  and  here,  at 
the  four  corners,  the  three  shadows  pause  and  separate. 

Two  continue  their  silent  march  northward,  and  the 
third  vanishes  among  the  sheltering,  low-bending  branches 
of  a  gnarled  old  tree  that  overhangs  the  road,  and  marks 
the  northwestern  corner. 

At  twenty  minutes  to  eleven  Arch  Brookhouse  takes 
leave  of  the  treasure-ship  heiress,  and  comes  out  into  the 
darkness  striding  down  the  avenue  like  a  man  accustomed 
to  the  road.  He  unties  the  waiting  horse  which  paws  the 
ground  impatiently,  yet  stands,  obedient  to  his  low  com- 
mand, turns  the  head  of  the  beast  southward,  seats  him- 
self in  the  light  buggy,  lights  a  cigar,  and  then  sits  silently 
smoking,  and  waiting, — for  what? 

The  dull  red  spark  at  the  end  of  his  cigar  shines  through 
the  dark  ;  the  horse  turns  his  head  and  chafes  to  be  away, 
but  the  smoker  sits  there,  moveless  and  silent. 

Presently  there  comes  a  sound,  slight  but  distinct;  the 


SOMETHING  THE  MOOX  FAILED  TO  SEE.  403 

crackling  of  a  twig  beneath  a  man's  boot,  and  almost  at 
the  s.uue  instant  the  last  light  disappears  from  the  windows 
of  the  "Hill  House." 

One,  two,  three.  Three  darks  forms  approach,  one 
after  the  other,- each  pauses  for  an  instant  beside  the  light 
buggy,  and  seems  to  look  up  to  the  dull  red  spark,  which 
is  all  of  Arch  Brookhouse  that  is  clearly  visible  through 
the  dark.  Then  they  enter  the  gate  and  are  swallowed  up 
in  the  blackness  of  the  avenue. 

And  now,  a  fourth  form  moves  stealthily  down  the 
avenue  after  tlio  others.  It  does  not  come  from  without 
the  grounds,  it  starts  out  from  the  shrubbery  within,  and 
it  is  unseen  by  Arch  Brookhouse. 

Plow  still  the  night  is  !  The  man  who  follows  after  the 
three  first  comers  can  almost  hear  his  pulses  throb,  or  so  he 
fancies. 

Presently  the  three  men  pause  before  the  door  of  the 
barn,  and  one  of  them  takes  from  his  pocket  a  key,  with 
which  he  unlocks  the  door,  and  they  enter. 

As  soon  as  they  are  inside,  a  lantern  is  lighted,  and 
the  three  men  move  together  toward  the  rear  of  the  barn, 
the  part  against  which  is  piled  a  monstrous  stack  of 
hay. 

Meanwhile  the  watcher  outside  glides  close  to  the  wall 
of  the  building,  listening  here  and  there,  as  he,  too,  ap- 
proaches the  huge  hay  pile. 

And  now  he   does  a  queer  thing.     He  begins  to  pull 


404  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

away  handfuls  of  liay  from  the  bottom  of  the  stack,  where 
it  is  piled  against  the  barn.  He  works  noiselessly,  and 
very  soon  has  made  an  opening,  into  which  he  crawls. 
Evidently  this  mine  has  been  worked  before,  for  there  is  a 
long  tunnel  through  the  hay,  penetrating  to  the  middle  of 
the  stack.  Here  the  watcher  peeps  through  two  small 
holes,  newly  drilled  in  the  thick  boards  of  the  barn.  And 
then  a  smile  of  triumph  rests  upon  his  face. 

He  sees  a  compartment  that,  owing  to  the  arrangement 
of  the  hay  against  the  rear  wall,  is  in  the  very  heart  of 
the  barn,  shut,  from  the  gaze  of  curious  eyes.  On  either 
side  is  a  division,  which  our  spy  knows  to  contain  a  store 
of  grain  piled  high,  and  acting  as  a  complete  non-conductor 
of  sound.  In  front  is  a  small  room  hung  about  with  har- 
ness, and  opening  into  a  carriage  room.  The  place  is  com- 
pletely hidden  from  the  ordinary  gaze,  and  only  a  very  in- 
quiring mind  would  have  fathomed  its  secret. 

The  spy,  who  is  peering  in  from  his  vantage  ground 
among  the  hay,  has  fathomed  the  secret.  And  he  now  sees 
within  six  horses — two  bay  Morgans,  two  roans,  and  two 
sorrels. 

The  three  men  are  there,  too,  busily  harnessing  the  six 
horses.  They  are  working  rapidly  and  silently. 

The  watcher  lingers  just  long  enough  to  sec  that  the  har- 
ness looks  new  and  that  it  is  of  the  sort  generally  used  for 
draft  horses,  and  then  ho  executes  a  retreat,  more  difficult 
than  his  entrance,  inasmuch  as  he  can  not  turn  in  his  hay 


"He  works  noiselessly,  and  very  soon  has  made  an  opening,  into 
which  he  crawls.  " — parje  40 1. 

405 


SOMETHING  THE  MOON  FAILED  TO  SEE.  407 

tunnel,  but  must  withdraw  by  a  series  of  retrograde  move- 
ments more  laborious  than  graceful. 

A  moment  more,  and  from  among  the  poplars  and  ever- 
greens a  light  goes  shooting  up,  high  and  bright  against 
the  sky ;  a  long,  red  ribbon  of  fire,  that  says  to  those  who 
can  read  the 'sign, 

"  The  Trafton  horse-thieves  are  about  to  move  with  their 
long-concealed  prey.  Meacham's  matched  sorrels,  Hop- 
per's two-forty's,  and  the  bay  Morgans  stolen  from  'Squire 
Brookhouse." 

It  was  seen,  this  fiery  rocket,  by  the  little  band  waiting 
by  the  roadside  more  than  a  m^e  away. 

"  There  it  is  !"  exclaims  young  Warren,  who  is  the  leader 
of  this  party — "  It  is  the  red  rocket.  They  are  going  with 
the  wagons;  it's  all  right,  boys,  we  can't  ride  too  fast 
now." 

The  seven  men  file  silently  out  from  the  roadside  and 
gallop  away  southward. 

At  the  four  corners,  not  far  from  the  house  on  the  hill, 
where,  a  short  time  before,  a  single  individual  had  stationed 
himself,  as  a  sentinel  in  the  darkness,  this  signal  rocket 
was  also  seen,  and  the  watcher  uttered  an  exclamation 
under  his  breath,  and  started  out  from  underneath  the  tree 
that  had  sheltered  him. 

He  could  never  remember  how  it  happened,  but  his  next 
sensation  was  that  of  being  borne  to  the  ground,  clutched 
with  a  tiger-like  grip,  crushed  by  a  heavy  weight. 


408  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

And  then  a  voice,  a  voice  that  he  had  not  heard  for 
years,  hissed  above  him, 

"  Lie  still,  Joe  Blaikie !  I've  waited  for  this  opportunity 
for  eight  long  years,  and  it  won't  be  worth  your  while  to 
trifle  with  Harvey  James  now" 

And  something  cold  and  hard  is  pressed  against  the 
temple  of  the  fallen  sentinel,  who  does  not  need  the  evi- 
dence of  the  accompanying  ominous  click  to  convince  him 
that  it  is  a  revolver  in  the  hand  of  his  deadliest  foe. 

"You  did  not  use  to  be  a  horse-thief,  Joe,"  continues  the 
voice,  and  the  speaker's  words  are  emphasized  by  the  pres- 
sure of  a  knee  upon  his  chjgf,  and  the  weapon  at  his  fore- 
head. "They  could  not  trust  you  to  do  the  fine  business, 
it  seems,  and  so  you  are  picketed  here  to  give  the  alarm  if 
anything  stirs  up  or  down  the  road.  If  it's  all  right,  you 
are  to  remain  silent.  If  anything  occurs  to  alarm  you,  you 
are  to  give  the  signal.  Now,  listen ;  you  are  to  get  up  and 
stand  from  under  this  tree.  I  i-hall  stand  directly  behind 
you  with  my  revolver  at  your  head,  and  I  shall  not  loosen 
my  grip  upon  your  collar.  When  your  friends  pass  this 
way,  you  had  better  remain  silent,  Joe  Blaikie." 

Arch  Brookhouse,  waiting  at  the  avenue  gate,  has  not 
seen  the  red  rocket.  The  tall  poplars  that  overshadow  him 
have  shut  the  shooting  fiery  ribbon  from  his  vision;  be- 
sides, he  has  been  looking  down  the  hill.  Neither  has  he 
seen  the  form  that  is  creeping  stealthily  toward  him  from 
behind  the  tree  that  guards  the  gate. 


"  Lie  still,  Joe  Blaikic!  I've  waited  for  this  opportunity  for  eight 
long  years,  and  it  won't,  be  worth  your  while  to  trifle  with  Harvey 
James  now." — page  408. 

409 


SOMETHING  THE  MOON  FAILED  TO  SEE.  411 

Those  within  the  barn  have  not  seen  the  rocket,  of  course ; 
and  presently  they  come  forth  and  harness  the  six  horses 
to  two  huge  wagons  that  stand  in  readiness.  Four  horses 
to  one  wagon,  two  to  the  other.  The  wheels  are  well  oiled, 
and  the  wagons  make  no  unnecessary  rumbling  as  they  go 
down  the  dark  poplar  avenue. 

At  the  gate  the  foremost  wagon  halts,  just  long  enough 
to  enable  the  driver  to  catch  the  low-spoken  word  that  tells 
him  it  is  safe  to  proceed. 

"All  right,"  Arch  Brookhouse  says,  softly,  and  the  two 
wagons  pass  out  and  down  the  hill,  straight  through  the 
village  of  Trafton. 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill,  where  the  four  roads  cross,  the 
drivers  peer  through  the  darkness.  Yes,  their  sentinel  is 
there.  The  white  handkerchief  which  he  holds  in  his 
hand,  as  a  sign  that  all  is  safe,  gleams  through  the  dark, 
and  they  drive  on  merrily,  and  if  the  sound  of  their  wheels 
wakens  any  sleeper  in  Trafton,  what  then?  It  is  not 
unusual  to  hear  coal  wagons  passing  on  their  way  to  the 
mines. 

Should  they  meet  a  belated  traveler,  no  matter.  He 
may  hear  the  rumble  of  the  wheels,  and  welcome,  so  long 
as  the  darkness  prevents  him  from  seeing  the  horses  that 
draw  those  innocent  vehicles  of  traffic. 

Meanwhile,  his  duty  being  done,  Arch  Brookhouse  heaves 
a  sigh  of  relief,  gathers  up  his  reins,  and  chirrups  to  his 
horse. 


412  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

But  the  animal  does  not  obey  him.  Arch  leans  for- 
ward; is  there  something  standing  by  the  horse's  head  ? 
He  gives  an  impatient  word  of  command,  and  then, — yes, 
there  is  some  one  there. 

Arch  utters  a  sharp  exclamation,  and  his  hand  goes  be- 
hind him,  only  to  be  grasped  by  an  enemy  in  the  rear, 
who  follows  up  his  advantage  by  seizing  the  other  elbow 
and  saying: 

"  Stop  a  moment,  Mr.  Brookhotise ;  you  are  my  prisoner, 
sir.  Gerry,  the  handctiifs." 

The  man  at  the  horse's  head  comes  swiftly  to  my  assist- 
ance, Arch  Brookhouse  is  drawn  from  his  buggy,  and  his 
hands  secured  behind  him  by  fetters  of  steel.  Not  a  cap- 
tive to  be  proud  of;  his  teeth  chatter,  he  shivers  as  with 
an  ague. 

"Wh — who  are  you?"  he  gasps.  "  Wh — what  do  you 
want?" 

"I'm  a  city  sprig,"  I  answer,  maliciously,  "and  I'm  an 
easy  fish  to  catch.  But  not  so  easy  as  you,  my  gay  Lothario. 
By  and  by  you  may  decide,  if  you  will,  whether  I  possess 
most  money  or  brains ;  now  I  have  more  important  busi- 
ness on  hand." 

Just  then  comes  a  long,  low  whistle. 

"  Gerry,"  I  say,  "that  is  Long.  Go  down  to  him  and 
see  if  he  needs  help." 

Gerry  is  off  in  an  instant,  and  then  my  prisoner  rallies 
his  cowardly  faculties,  and  begins  to  bluster. 


SOMETHING  THE  MOON  FAILED  TO  SEE.  413 

"What  does  this  assault  mean?  I  demand  an  explana- 
tion, sir!" 

"But  I  am  not  in  the  mood  to  give  it,"  I  retort.  "You 
are  my  prisoner,  and  likely  to  remain  so,  unless  you  are 
stolen  from  me  by  Judge  Lynch,  which  is  not  improbable." 

"Then,  y — you  are  an  impostor!" 

"You  mistake;  I  am  a  detective.  You  shot  at  the 
wrong  man  when  you  winged  Bethel.  You  did  better 
when  you  crippled  widow  Ballou's  hired  man." 

"  What,  are  you  ? — "  he  starts  violently,  then  checks  his 
speech. 

"I'm  the  man  you  shot,  behind  the  hedge,  Mr.  Brook- 
house,  and  I'll  trouble  you  to  explain  your  conduct  to- 
morrow." 

My  prisoner  moves  restlessly  under  my  restraining  hand, 
but  I  cock  my  pistol,  and  lie  comprehending  the  unspoken 
warning,  stands  silent  beside  his  buggy. 

Presently  I  hear  footsteps,  and  then  Gerry  comes  towards 
me,  lighting  the  way  with  a  pocket  lantern,  which  reveals  to 
my  gaze  Dimber  Joe,  handcuffed  and  crest-fallen,  marching 
sedately  over  the  ground  at  the  muzzle  of  a  pistol  held  in 
the  firm  clutch  of  Jim  Long,  upon  whose  countenance  sits 
a  look  of  grim,  triumphant  humor. 

"  Here,"  says  Gerry,  with  aggravating  ceremony,  "  is 
Mr.  Long,  with  sentinel  number  two,  namely:  Mr.  Dim- 
ber Joe  Blaikie,  late' of  Sing  Sing." 

"  And  very  soon  to  return  there,"  adds  Jim  Long,  em- 


414  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

phatically.     "What   shall    we  do   with   these   fellows?" 

"  We  must  keep  everything  quiet  to-night,"  I  say, 
quickly.  "  If  you  and  Gerry  think  you  won't  go  to  sleep 
over  the  precious  scamps  you  might  take  them  to  the  barn 
and  let  them  pass  the  night  where  they  have  hidden  so 
many  horses.  We  will  take  them  there  now,  and  bind 
them  more  securely.  Then  one  of  you  can  look  after  them 
easily,  while  the  other  stands  guard  outside.  All  must  be 
done  quietly,  so  that  they  may  not  take  the  alarm  in  the 
house.  If  your  prisoners  attempt  to  make  a  noise,  gag 
them  without  scruple." 

"  But,"  gasps  Brookhouse,  "  you  can  not ;  you  have  no 
power." 

"  No  power,"  mocks  Jim  Long.  "  We'll  see  about  that ! 
It  may  be  unparliamentary,  gentlemen,  but  you  should  not 
object  to  that.  If  you  give  us  any  trouble,  we  will  con- 
vince you  that  we  have  inherited  a  little  brief  authority." 

Ten  minutes  later  we  have  carried  out  our  programme. 
The  two  prisoners  are  safely  housed  in  the  hidden  asylum 
for  stolen  horses,  with  Jim  Long  as  guard  within,  and 
Gerry  as  sentinel  without,  and  I,  seated  in  the  light  buggv 
from  which  I  have  unceremoniously  dragged  Arch  Brook- 
house,  am  driving  his  impatient  roadster  southward,  in  the 
wake  of  the  honest  coal  wagons. 


CAUGHT   IN  THE  ACT,  416 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

CAUGHT  IN  THE  ACT. 

It  is  long  past  midnight.  A  preternatural  stillness 
broods  over  the  four  corners  where  the  north  and  south 
road,  two  miles  north  from  Clyde,  intersects  the  road  run- 
ning east  arid  west,  that  bears  westward  toward  the  coal 
beds  and  the  river. 

There  are  no  houses  within  sight  of  these  corners,  and 
very  few  trees ;  but  the  northeastern  corner  is  bounded  by 
what  the  farmers  call  a  "  brush  fence,"  an  unsightly  barri- 
cade of  rails,  interwoven  with  tall,  ragged,  and  brambly 
brush,  the  cuttings,  probably,  from  some  rank-growing 
hedge. 

The  section  to  the  southwest  is  bordered  by  a  prim  hedge, 
thrifty  and  green,  evenly  trimmed,  and  so  low  that  a  man 
could  leap  across  it  with  ease. 

And  now  the  silence  is  broken  by  the  sound  of  wheels 
coming  from  the  direction  of  Clyde;  swift  running  wheels 
that  soon  bring  their  burden  to  the  four  corners,  and  then 
come  to  a  sudden  halt. 

It  is  a  light  buggy,  none  other  than  that  owned  by  Mr. 
Lark  ins,  of  Clyde,  drawn  by  his  roans  that  "  go  in  no 
time.''  and  it  contains  three  men. 

r 


1 1 6  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"There!"  says  the  driver,  who  is  Lark  ins  himself,  spring- 
ing to  the  ground,  and  thrusting  his  arm  through  the  reins, 
"here  we  arc,  with  nothing  to  do  but  wait.  We  always  do 
wait,  you  know." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  assents  a  second  individual,  descending 
to  the  ground  in  his  turn.  "We're  always  on  time.  Now, 
if  a  man  only  could  smoke — but  he  can't." 

And  Ed.  Dwight  shrugs  his  shoulders  and  burrows  in 
his  pockets,  and  shuffles  his  feet,  as  only  Ed.  Dwight  can. 

"  Might's  well  get  out,  Briggs,"  says  Larkins,  to  the  man 
who  still  sits  in  the  buggy. 

"Might's  well  stay  here,  too,"  retorts  that  individual, 
gruffly.  "  I'm  comfortable." 

Larkins  sniffs,  and  pats  the  haunch  of  the  off  roan. 

Dwight  snaps  a  leaf  from  the  hedge  and  chews  it  nerv- 
ously. 

The  man  in  the  buggy  sits  as  still  as  a  mummy. 

Presently  there  comes  again  the  sound  of  wheels.  Not 
noisy  wheels,  that  would  break  in  upon  midnight  slum- 
bers, nor  ghostly  wheels,  whose  honesty  might  be  called  in 
question,  but  well  oiled,  smooth  running  wheels,  that  break 
but  do  not  disturb  the  stillness. 

These  also  approach  the  cross  roads,  and  then  stop. 

The  first  are  those  of  a  coal  wagon,  drawn  by  four  hand- 
some horses ;  the  second,  those  of  a  vehicle  of  the  same 
description,  drawn  by  two  fine  steeds. 

Two  men  occupy  the  first  wagon  ;  one  the  next. 


CAUGHT  IN    THE  ACT.  417 

As  the  foremost  wagon  pauses,  Larkins  tosses  his  reins 
to  the  silent  man  in  the  buggy,  and  advances,  followed 
by  D\vight. 

"Anything  wrong?"  queries  Larkins. 

"  Not  if  you  are  all  right,"  replies  a  harsh  voice,  a  voice 
that  lias  a  natural  snarl  in  it. 

"All  right,  Cap'n;  give  us  your  orders." 

The  two  men  in  the  wa«;ou  spring;  to  the  ground,  and 

O  _L  O  O  / 

begin  to  unharness  the  foremost  horses.     The  other  wagon 

comes  closer. 

"You  and  Briggs  arc  to  take  in  these  two  teams.     Tom 

is  to  go  on  with  the  Morgans.     D wight  is  to  take  us  back 

to  Traftou,"  says  the  rasping  voice. 

D  wight  comes  closer,  and  then  exclaims  : 

"By  George,  Captain,  it's  you  in  person." 

"Yes,  it's  me,"  shortly.     "Simpson  failed  to  come,  and 

I   wanted  to  have  a  few  words  with  you  and   Larkins. 

Hark!      What's  that?" 

Wheels    again ;  swift    rushing,    rattling    wheels.     Six 

heads  are  turned  toward  the  north,  whence  they  approach. 
Suddenly  there  is  a  whistle,  short  and  shrill. 
Men  are  bounding  over  the  low  hedge  to  the  left!     Men 

are  rising  up  from  the  long  grass  by  the  roadside! 
Oaths,  ejaculations,  crackingof  pistols,  plungingof  horses — 
"The  first  man  who  attempts  to  run  will  be  shot  down!" 
I  hear  these  words,  as  I  drive  the  Brookhouse  roadster, 

foaming  and  panting,  into  the  midst  of  the  melee. 

27 


418  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

In  spite  of  the  warning  one  man  has  made  a  dart  for 
liberty,  has  turned  and  rushed  directly  upon  my  horse. 

In  spite  of  the  darkness  his  sharp  eyes  recognize  the 
animal.  What  could  his  son's  horse  bring  save  a  warning 
or  a  rescue? 

He  regains  his  balance,  which,  owing  to  his  sudden  con- 
tact with  the  horse,  he  had  nearly  lost,  and  springs  toward 
me  as  my  feet  touch  the  earth. 

"Arch!" 

Before  he  can  realize  the  truth  my  hands  are  upon  him. 
Before  he  can  recover  from  his  momentary  consternation 
other  hands  seize  him  from  behind. 

The  captain  of  the  horse-thieves,  the  head  and  front  and 
brains  of  the  band,  is  bound  and  helpless! 

It  is  soon  over;  the  horse-thieves  fight  well ;  strive  hard 
to  evade  capture;  but  the  attack  is  so  sudden,  so  unex- 
pected, and  they  are  unprepared,  although  each  man,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  is  heavily  armed. 

The  vigilants  have  all  the  advantage,  both  of  numbers 
and  organization.  While  certain  ones  give  all  their  at- 
tention to  the  horses,  the  larger  number  look  to  the  prison- 
ers. 

Briggs,  the  silent  man  in  the  buggy,  is  captured  before 
he  knows  what  has  happened. 

Tom  Briggs,  his  cowardly  brother,  is  speedily  reduced  to 
a  whimpering  poltroon. 

Ed.  Dwight  takes  to  his  heels  in  spite  of  the  warning  of 


"Men   are  bounding  over  the  low  hedge  to  the  ieft!    Men  are 
rising  up  from  the  long  grass  by  the  roadside!" — 417. 

419 


CAUGHT   IN  THE  ACT.  421 

Captain  Warren,  and  is  speedily  winged  with  a  charge  of 
fine  shot.  It  is  not  a  severe  wound,  but  it  has  routed  his 
courage,  and  he  is  brought  back,  meek  and  pitiful  enough, 
all  the  jauntincss  crushed  out  of  him. 

Larkins,  my  jehu  on  a  former  occasion,  makes  a  fierce 
fight;  and  Louis  Brookhouse,  who  still  moves  with  a  limp, 
resists  doggedly. 

Our  vigilants  have  received  a  few  bruises  and  scratches, 
but  no  wounds. 

The  struggle  has  been  short,  and  the  captives,  once  sub- 
dued, are  silent  and  sullen. 

We  bind  them  securely,  and  put  them  in  the  coal  wagons 
which  now,  for  the  first  time,  perhaps,  are  put  to  a  legiti- 
mate use. 

We  do  not  care  to  burden  ourselves  with  Larkins' 
roans,  so  they  are  released  from  the  buggy  and  sent  gallop- 
ing homeward. 

The  bay  Morgans,  which  have  been  "stolen"  for  the 
sake  of  effect,  are  again  harnessed,  as  leaders  of  the  four-in- 
hand.  The  vigilants  bring  out  their  horses  from  behind 
the  brush  fence,  and  the  procession  starts  toward  Trafton. 

No  one  attempts  to  converse  with  the  captives.  No  one 
deigns  to  answer  a  question,  except  by  a  monosyllable. 

'Squire  Brookhouse  is  wise  enough  to  see  that  he  can 
gain  nothing  by  an  attempt  at  bluster  or  bribery.  He 
maintains  a  dogged  silence,  and  the  others,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Dwight,  who  can  not  be  still  under  any  circum- 


422  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

stances,  and  Tom  Briggs,  who  makes  an  occasional  whimper- 
ing attempt  at  self-justification,  which  is  heeded  by  no 
one,  all  maintain  a  dogged  silence.  And  we  move  on  at  a 
leisurely  pace,  out  of  consideration  for  the  tired  horses. 

As  we  approach  Trafton,  the  Summer  sun  is  sending  up 
his  first  streak  of  red,  to  warn  our  side  of  the  world  of  his 
nearness;  and  young  Warren  reins  his  horse  out  from  the 
orderly  file  of  vigilants,  who  ride  on  either  side  of  the 
wagons. 

He  gallops  forward,  turns  in  his  saddle  to  look  back 
at  us,  waves  his  hat  above  his  head,  and  then  speeds  away 
toward  the  village. 

I  am  surprised  at  this,  but,  as  I  look  from  one  face  to 
another,  I  see  that  the  vigilants,  some  of  them,  at  least, 
understand  the  movement,  and  so  I  ask  no  questions. 

I  am  not  left  long  in  suspense  as  to  the  meaning  of 
young  Warren's  sudden  leave-taking,  for,  as  we  approach 
to  within  a  mile  of  Trafton,  our  ears  are  greeted  by  the 
clang  of  bells,  all  the  bells  of  Trafton,  ringing  out  a  fiercely 
jubilant  peal. 

I  turn  to  look  at  'Squire  Brookhouse.  He  has  grown 
old  in  an  instant;  his  face  looks  ashen  under  the  rosy  day- 
light. The  caverns  of  his  eyes  are  larger  and  deeper, 
and  the  orbs  themselves  gleam  with  a  desperate  fire.  His 
lifeless  black  locks  flutter  in  the  morning  breeze.  He  looks 
forlorn  and  desperate.  Thoseclanging  bells  are  telling  him 
his  doom. 


CAUGHT  IN  THE  ACT.  423 

Warren  1ms  clone  his  work  well.  When  we  come  over 
the  hill  into  Trafton,  we  know  that  the  news  is  there  before 
us,  for  a  throng  has  gathered  in  the  street,  although  the 
hour  is  so  early. 

The  bells  have  aroused  the  people.  The  news  that  the 
Trafton  horse-thieves  arc  captured  at  last,  in  the  very  act 
of  escaping  with  their  booty,  has  set  the  town  wild. 

Not  long  since  these  same  horse-thieves  have  led  Trafton 
on  to  assault,  to  accuse,  and  to  vilify  an  innocent  man. 
Now,  those  who  were  foremost  at  the  raiding  of  Bethel's 
cottage,  are  loudest  in  denouncing  those  who  were  then 
their  leaders;  and  the  cry  goes  up, 

"  Hand  over  the  horse-thieves !  Hand  them  out !  Lynch 
law's  good  enough  for  them !" 

But  we  are  fourteen  in  number.  We  have  captured  the 
prisoners,  and  we  mean  to  keep  them. 

Once  more  my  pistols,  this  time  fully  loaded,  are  raised 
against  a  Trafton  mob,  and  the  vigilants  follow  my  ex- 
ample. 

We  guard  our  prisoners  to  the  door  of  the  jail,  and  then 
the  vigilants  post  themselves  as  a  wall  of  defence  about  the 
building,  while  Captain  Warren  sets  about  the  easy  task  of 
raisinga  trusty  relief  guard  to  take  the  places  of  his  weary  men. 

It  is  broad  day  now.  The  sun  glows  round  and  bright 
above  the  Eastern  horizon.  I  am  very  weary,  but  there  is 
work  yet  to  be  done. 

I  leave  Captain  Warren  at  the  door  of  the  jail,  and  hasten 
toward  the  Hill. 


424  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

"  THE  COUNTERFEITER'S  DAUGHTER." 

I  am  somewhat  anxious  about  this  coming  bit  of  work, 
and  a  little  reluctant  as  well,  but  it  must  be  done,  and  that 
promptly. 

Just  outside  of  the  avenue  gate  I  encounter  a  servant 
from  the  Hill  House,  and  accost  him. 

"  Is  Miss  Manvers  at  home,  and  awake  ?" 

"Yes,  she  is  at  home;  she  has  been  disturbed  by  the 
bells,"  and  has  sent  him  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  the 
commotion. 

She  does  not  know,  then!  I  heave  a  sigh  of  relief  and 
hurry  on. 

I  cross  the  avenue,  and  follow  the  winding  foot-path 
leading  up  to  the  front  entrance.  I  make  no  effort  to  see 
Jim  or  Gerry,  at  the  barn ;  I  feel  'sure  that  they  are  equal 
to  any  emergency  that  may  arise. 

Miss  Manvers  is  standing  at  an  open  drawing-room 
window;  she  sees  my  approach  and  comes  herself  to  admit 
me. 

Then  we  look  at  each  other. 

She,  I  note,  seems  anxious  and  somewhat  uneasy,  and 


"  Then  the  vigilants  post  themselves  as  a  wall  of  defence  about 
the  building." — page  423. 

425 


"THE  COUNTERFEITER'S  DAUGHTER."  427 

she  sees  at  a  glance  that  I  am  not  the  jaunty,  faultlessly- 
dressed  young  idler  of  past  days,  but  a  dusty,  dishevelled, 
travel-stained  individual,  wearing,  instead  of  the  usual 
society  smile,  a  serious  and  preoccupied  look  upon  my 
face. 

"Miss  Manvers/'  I  say,  at  once,  "you  will  pardon  my 
abruptness,  I  trust ;  I  must  talk  with  you  alone  for  a  few 
moments." 

She  favors  me  with  a  glance  of  keen  inquiry,  and  a  look 
of  apprehension  crosses  her  face. 

Then  she  turns  with  a  gesture  of  careless  indifference, 
and  leads  the  way  to  the  drawing-room,  where  she  again 
turns  her  face  toward  me. 

"  I  have  before  me  an  unpleasant  duty,"  I  begin  again  ; 
"I  have  to  inform  you  that  Arch  Brookhouse  has  been 
arrested." 

A  fierce  light  leaps  to  her  eyes. 

"Zs-  that  all?"  she  questions. 

"The  charge  against  him  is  a  grave  one,"  I  say,  letting 
her  question  pass  unanswered.  "He  is  accused  of  attemut- 
ed  abduction." 

"  Abduction !"  she  exclaims. 

"  And  attempted  assassination/ 

"Assassination!  ah,  who?" 

"Attempt  first,  upon  myself,  in  June  last.  Second  at- 
tempt, upon  Dr.  Carl  Bethel." 

A  wrathful  look  crosses  her  face. 


428  OUT  OF  A  LABYKINTH. 

"I  wish  they  could  hang  him  for  it!"  she  says,  vindic- 
tively. Then  she  looks  me  straight  in  the  eyes.  "  Did 
you  come  to  tell  me  this  because  you  fancy  that  I  care  for 
Arch  Brook  house  ?"  she  questions. 

"No." 

"  Why,  then  ?" 

"  Because  I  am  a  detective,  and  it  was  my  duty  to 
come.  There  is  more  to  tell  you.  'Squire  Brookhouse 
and  his  gang  were  arrested  last  night  in  the  act  of  remov- 
ing stolen  horses  from  your  barn." 

Her  face  pales  and  she  draws  a  long  sighing  breath,  but 
she  does  not  falter  nor  evince  any  other  sign  of  fear. 

"  So  it  has  come,"  she  says.  "  And  now  you  are  here  to 
arrest  me.  I  don't  think  I  shall  mind  it  much." 

"  I  have  come  to  make  terms  with  you,  Miss  Lowenstein, 
and  it  will  be  your  fault  if  they  are  hard  terms.  I  know 
your  past  history,  or,  at  least — " 

"At  least,  that  I  am  a  counterfeiter's  daughter,  and  that 
I  have  served  a  term  as  a  convict,"  she  finishes,  sarcas- 
tically. 

"  I  know  that  you  are  the  daughter  of  Jake  Lowenstein, 
forger  and  counterfeiter.  I  know  that  you  were  ar- 
rested with  him,  as  an  accomplice;  that  immunity  was 
offered  you  if  you  would  testify  against  your  father,  the 
lawyers  being  sure  that  your  evidence  alone  would  easily 
convict  him.  I  know  that  you  refused  to  turn  State's  evi- 
dence; that  you  scoffed  at  the  lawyers,  and  rather  than  raise 


"THE  COUNTERFEITER'S  DAUGHTER.  429 

your  voice  against  your  father,  let  them  send  you  to  prison 
for  two  years." 

"You  know  all  this?"  wonderingly.  ''How  did  you 
find  me  out  here?" 

"  Before  you  were  taken  to  prison,  they  took  your  picture 
for—" 

I  hesitate,  but  she  does  not. 

"  For  the  rogue's  gallery,"  she  says,  impatiently.  "  Well ! 
go  on." 

"You  were  fiercely  angry,  and  the  scorn  on  your  face 
was  transferred  to  the  picture." 

"Quite  likely." 

"  I  had  heard  of  your  case,  and  your  father's,  of  course. 
But  I  was  not  personally  concerned  in  it,  and  I  never  saw 
him.  I  had  never  seen  you,  until  I  came  to  Trafton." 

"  I  have  changed  since  then,"  she  breaks  in,  quickly. 

"True;  you  were  a  slender,  pretty  young  girl  then. 
You  are  a  handsome  woman,  now.  Your  features,  how- 
ever, are  not  much  changed  ;  yet  probably,  if  I  had  never 
seen  you  save  when  your  face  wore  its  usual  serene  smile, 
I  should  never  have  found  you  out.  But  my  comrade, 
who  came  to  Trafton  with  me — " 

"  As  your  servant,"  she  interposes. 

"As  my  servant;  yes.  He  had  your  picture  in  his  col- 
lection. On  the  day  of  your  lawn  party,  I  chanced  to  see 
you  behind  a  certain  rose  thicket,  in  conversation  with  Arch 
Brookhouse.  He  was  insolent;  you,  angry  and  defiant. 


430  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

I  caught  the  look  on  your  face,  and  knew  that  I  had  seen 
it  before,  somewhere.  I  wenthome  puzzled,  to  find  Carnes, 
better  known  to  you  as  Cooley,  looking  at  a  picture  in  his 
rogue's  gallery.  I  took  the  book  and  began  turning  its 
leaves,  and  there  under  my  eye  was  your  picture.  Then  I 
knew  that  Miss  Manvers,  the  heiress,  was  really  Miss  Adele 
Lowenstein." 

"You  say  that  it  will  be  my  fault  if  you  make  hard 
terms  with  me.  My  father  is  dead.  I  suppose  you  under- 
stand that?" 

"Yes;  I  know  that  he  is  dead,  but  I  do  not  know  why 
you  are  here,  giving  shelter  to  stolen  property  and  abbet- 
ting  horse-thieves.  Frankly,  Miss  Lowenstein,  so  far  as 
your  past  is  concerned,  I  consider  you  sinned  against  as 
much  as  sinning.  Your  sacrifice  in  behalf  of  your  father 
was,  in  my  eyes,  a  brave  act,  rather  than  a  criminal  one. 
I  am  disposed  to  be  ever  jour  friend  rather  than  your 
enemy.  Will  you  tell  me  how  you  became  connected  with 
this  gang,  and  all  the  truth  concerning  your  relations  with 
them,  and  trust  me  to  aid  you  to  the  limit  of  my  power  ?" 

"  You  do  not  promise  me  my  freedom  if  I  give  you  this 
information,"  she  says,  more  in  surprise  than  in  anxiety. 

"  It  is  not  in  my  power  to  do  that  and  still  do  my  duty 
as  an  officer;  but  I  promise  you,  upon  my  honor,  that  you 
shall  have  your  freedom  if  it  can  be  brought  about." 

"  I  like  the  sound  of  that,"  says  this  odd,  self-reliant 
young  woman,  turning  composedly,  and  seating  herself  near 


"THE  COUNTERFEITER'S  DAUGHTER."  431 

the  open  .window.  "  If  you  had  vowed  to  give  me  my  liberty 
at  any  cost  I  should  not  have  believed  you.  Sit  down  ;  I 
shall  tell  you  a  longer  story  than  you  will  care  to  listen  to 
standing." 

I  seat  myself  in  obedience  to  her  word  and  gesture,  and 
she  begins  straightway : 

"  I  was  seventeen  years  old  when  my  father  was  arrested 
for.  counterfeiting,  and  I  looked  even  younger. 

"  He  had  a  number  of  confederates,  but  the  assistant 
he  most  valued  was  the  man  whom  people  call  'Squire 
Brookhouse.  He  was  called  simply  Brooks  eight  years 
ago. 

"  When  my  father  was  arrested,  'Squire  Brookhouse,  who 
was  equally  guilty,  contrived  to  escape.  He  was  a  prudent 
-sharper,  and  both  he  and  father  had  accumulated  consider- 
able money. 

"  If  you  know  that  my  father  and  myself  were  sentenced 
to  prison,  he  for  twenty  years,  and  I  for  two,  you  know,  I 
suppose,  how  he  escaped." 

"I  know  that  he  did  escape;  just  how  we  need  not 
discuss  at  present." 

"Yes;  he  escaped.  Brookhouse  used  his  money  to 
bribe  bolder  men  to  do  the  necessary  dangerous  work,  for 
he,  Brookhouse,  needed  my  father's  assistance,  and  he  es- 
caped. I  had  yet  six  months  to  serve. 

"  Well,  Brookhouse  had  recently  been  down  into  this 
country  on  a  plundering  expedition.  He  was  an  avaricious 


432  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

man,  always  devising  some  new  scheme.  He  knew  that 
without  my  father's  assistance,  he  could  hardly  run  a  long 
career  at  counterfeiting,  and  he  knew  that  counterfeiting 
would  be  dangerous  business  for  my  father  to  follow,  in  or 
near  the  city,  after  his  escape. 

"They  talked  and  schemed  and  prospected;  and  the  re- 
sult was  that  they  both  came  to  Trafton,  and  invested  a 
portion  of  their  gains,  the  largest  portion  of  course,  in  two 
pieces  of  real  estate ;  this  and  the  Brookhouse  place. 

"  Before  we  had  been  here  a  year,  my  father  grew  ven- 
turesome. He  went  to  the  city,  and  was  recognized  by  an 
old  policeman,  who  had  known  him  too  well.  They  at- 
tempted to  arrest  him,  but  only  captured  his  dead  body; 
The  papers  chronicled  the  fact  that  Jake  Lowenstein,  the 
counterfeiter,  was  dead.  And  we,  at  Trafton,  announced 
to  the  world  that  Captain  Manvers,  late  of  the  navy,  had 
been  drowned  while  making  his  farewell  voyage. 

"After  that,  I  became  Miss  Manvers,  the  heiress,  and 
the  good  Traftonites  were  regaled  with  marvelous  stories 
concerning  a  treasure-ship  dug  out  from  the  deep  by  my 
father,  'the  sea  captain.' 

"  Their  main  object  in  settling  in  Trafton,  was  to  pro- 
vide for  themselves  homes  that  mio-ht  aiford  them  a  haven 

O 

should  stormy  times  come.  And,  also,  to  furnish  them 
with  a  place  where  their  coining  and  engraving  could  be 
safely  carried  on. 

"Then  the  'Squire  grew  more  enterprising.     He  wanted 


THE  COUNTERFEITER'S  DAUGHTER."          433 

more  schemes  to  manage.     And  so  he  began  to  lay  his  plans 
for  systematic  horse-stealing. 

"  Little  by  little  he  matured  his  scheme,  and  one  by  one 
he  introduced  into  Trafton  such  men  as  would  serve  his 
purpose,  for,  if  you  inquire  into  the  matter,  you  will  find 
that  every  one  of  his  confederates  has  pome  to  this  place 
since  the  first  advent  of  'Squire  Brookhouse. 

"The  hidden  place  in  our  barn  was  prepared  before  my 
father  was  killed,  and  after  that — well,  'Squire  Brook- 
house  knew -that  I  could  be  a  great  help  to  him,  socially. 

"I  did  not  know  what  to  do.  This  home  was  mine,  I 
felt  safe  here ;  I  had  grown  up  among  counterfeiters  and 
law-breakers,  and  I  did  not  see  how  I  was  to  shake  myself 
free  from  them — besides — " 

Here  a  look  of  scornful  self-contempt  crosses  her  face. 

"Besides,  I  was  young,  and  up  to  that  time  had  seen 
nothing  of  society  of  my  own  age.  Arch  Brookhouse  had 
lately  come  home  from  the  South,  and  I  had  fallen  in  love 
with  his  handsome  face." 

She  lifts  her  eyes  to  mine,  as  if  expecting  to  see  her  own 
self-scorn  reflected  back  in  my  face,  but  I  continue  to  look 
gravely  attentive,  and  she  goes  on : 

"  So  Istayed  on,  and  let  them  use  my  property  asa  hiding- 
place  for  their  stolen  horses.  I  kept  servants  of  their  se- 
lection, and  never  knew  aught  of  their  plans.  When  I 
heard  that  a  horse  had  been  stolen,  I  felt  very  certain  that 
it  was  concealed  on  my  premises,  but  I  never  investigated. 
28  *19 


434  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"  After  a  time  I  became  as  weary  of  Arch  Brook  house  as 
he,  probably,  was  of  me.  Finally  indifference  became  detes- 
tation. He  only  came  to  my  house  on  matters  of  business, 
and  to  keep  up  the  appearance  of  friendliness  between  the 
two  families.  Mrs.  Brookhouse  is  a  long-suffering,  broken- 
down  woman,  who  never  sees  society. 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  plead  for  mercy,  and  I  do  not  want 
pity.  I  dare  say  that  nine-tenths  of  the  other  women  in 
the  world  would  have  done  as  I  did,  under  the  same  cir- 
cumstances. I  have  served  two  years  in  the  penitentiary ; 
my  face  adorns  the  rogues'  gallery.  I  might  go  out  into 
the  world  and  try  a  new  way  of  living,  but  I  must  alwa\s 
be  an  impostor.  Why  not  be  an  impostor  in  Trafton,  as 
well  as  anywhere  else?  I  have  always  believed  that,  some 
day,  I  should  be  found  out." 


'LOUISE  BARNARD'S  FRIENDSHIP."  435 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

"LOUISE  BARNARD'S  FRIENDSHIP." 

When  she  has  finished  her  story  there  is  a  long  silence, 
then  she  says,  with  a  suddenness  that  would  have  been  sur- 
prising in  any  other  woman  than  the  one  before  me: 

"  You  say  you  have  arrested  Arch  Brookhouse  for  the 
shooting  of  Dr.  Bethel.  Tell  me,  is  it  true  that  Dr.  Bethel 
is  out  of  danger?" 

"  He  is  still  in  a  condition  to  need  close  attention  and 
careful  medical  aid  ;  with  these,  we  think,  he  will  re- 
cover." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  know  that,"  she  says,  earnestly. 

"  Miss  Lowenstein,  I  have  some  reason  for  thinking  that 
you  know  who  is  implicated  in  that  grave-robbing  busi- 
ness." 

"  I  do  know,"  she  answers,  frankly,  "  but  not  from  them. 
The  Brookhouses,  father  and  sons,  believed  Dr.  Bethel  to 
be  a  detective,  and  to  be  candid,  so  did  I.  You  know 
'the  wicked  flee  when  no  man  pursueth.'  They  construed 
his  reticence  into  mystery.  They  fancied  that  his  clear, 
searching  eye  was  looking  into  all  their  secrets.  I  knew 
they  were  plotting  against  him,  but  I  had  told  Arch  Brook- 


436  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

house  that  they  should  not  harm  him.  When  I  went  down 
to  the  cottage  with  Louise  Barnard,  I  felt  sure  that  it  was 
their  work,  the  grave-robbing. 

"  Tom  Briggs  was  there,  the  fiercest  of  the  rioters.  Tom 
had  worked  about  my  stable  for  a  year  or  more,  and  I 
thought  that  I  knew  how  to  manage  him.  I  contrived  to 
get  a  word  with  him.  Did  you  observe  it?" 

"Yes,  I  observed  it." 

"  I  told  him  to  come  to  The  Hill  that  evening,  and  he 
came.  Then  I  made  him  tell  me  the  whole  story. 

"  Arch  Brookhouse  had  planned  the  thing,  and  given  it 
to  Briggs  to  execute.  There  were  none  of  the  regular 
members  of  the  gang  here  to  help  him  at  that  work,  so 
he  went,  under  instructions,  of  course,  to  Simmons  and 
Saunders,  two  dissolute,  worthless  fellows,  and  told  them 
that  Dr.  Bethel  had  offered  him  thirty  dollars  to  get  the 
little  girl's  body,  and  offered  to  share  with  them. 

"  Those  three  did  the  work.  Briggs  buried  the  clothing 
and  hid  the  tools.  Then,  when  the  raid  began,  Briggs  told 
his  two  assistants  that,  in  order  to  avoid  suspicion,  they 
must  join  the  hue  and  cry  against  Dr.  Bethel,  and  so,  as 
you  are  aware,  they  did." 

This  information  is  valuable  to  me.  I  am  anxious  to  be 
away,  to  meet  Simmons  and  Saunders.  I  open  my  lips  to 
make  a  request,  when  she  again  asks  a  sudden  question. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  where  and  how  you  arrested  the 
.  Brookhouse  gang  ?  I  am  anxious  to  know." 


"LOUISE  BARNARD'S  FRIENDSHIP."  437 

"  I  will  tell  you,  but  first  will  you  please  answer  one 
more  question?" 

She  nods  and  I  proceed. 

"  I  have  told  you  that  Arch  Brookhouse  is  charged  with 
attempted  abduction  ;  I  might  say  Louis  Brookhouse  stands 
under  the  same  charge.  Do  you  know  anything  about 
the  matter?" 

"  I  ?     No." 

"  Did  you  ever  know  Miss  Amy  Holmes?" 

"Never,"  she  replies,  emphatically.  "Whom  did  they 
attempt  to  abduct?" 

"  Three  young  girls  ;  three  innocent  country  girls." 

"  Good  heavens!"  she  exclaims,  her  eyes  flashing  fiercely, 
"  that  is  a  deed,  compared  with  which  horse-thieving  is 
honorable !" 

I  give  her  a  brief  outline  of  the  Groveland  affair,  or 
series  of  affairs,  so  far  as  I  am  able,  before  having  heard 
Carries'  story.  And  then  I  tell  her  how  the  horse-thieves 
were  hunted  down. 

"So,"  she  says,  wearily,  "by  this  time  I  am  known  all 
over  Trafton  as  the  accomplice  of  horse-thieves." 

"  Not  so,  Miss  Lowenstein.  The  entire  truth  is  known 
to  Carnes  and  Brown,  the  two  detectives  I  have  mentioned, 
to  Jim  Long,  and  to  Mr.  Warren.  The  vigilants  knew 
that  the  horses  had  been  concealed  near  Trafton,  but,  owing 
to  the  manner  in  which  the  arrests  were  made,  they  do  not 
know  where.  I  suppose  you  are  aware  what  it  now  be- 
comes my  duty  to  do?". 


438  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"Assuredly," with  constrained  voiceand manner.  "You 
came  here  to  arrest  me.  I  submit." 

"  Wait.  From  first  to  last  it  has  been  my  desire  to  deal 
with  you  as  gently  as  possible.  Now  that  I  have  heard 
your  story,  I  am  still  more  inclined  to  stand  your  friend. 
The  three  men  in  Trafton  who  know  your  complicity  in  this 
business,  are  acting  under  my  advice.  For  the  present,  you 
may  remain  here,  if  you  will  give  me  your  promise  not  to 
attempt  an  escape." 

"  I  shall  not  try  to  escape ;  I  would  be  foolish  to  do  so, 
after  learning  how  skillfully  you  can  hunt  down  criminals." 

"  Thanks  for  the  compliment,  and  the  promise  implied. 
If  you  will  give  your  testimony  against  the  gang,  telling  in 
court  the  story  you  have  told  me,  you  shall  not  stand  be- 
fore these  people  without  a  champion." 

"  I  don't  like  to  do  it.     It  seems  cowardly." 

"Why  ?  Do  you  think  they  would  spare  you  were  the 
positions  reversed?" 

"  No,  certainly  not ;  but — "  turning  her  eyes  toward  the 
foliage  without,  and  speaking  wistfully,  "I  wish  I  knew 
how  another  woman  would  view  my  position.  I  never  had 
the  friendship  of  a  woman  who  knew  me  as  I  am.  I  wish 
I  knew  how  such  a  woman  as  Louise  Barnard  would  ad- 
vise me." 

Scarcely  knowing  how  to  reply  to  this  speech,  I  pass  it 
by  and  hasten  to  finish  my  own. 

Will  she  remain  in  her  own  house  until  I  see  her  again, 


"  I  wish  I  knew  how  such  a  woman  as  Louise  Barnard  would  ad- 
vise me." — page  438. 

439 


"LOUISE  BAHNARP'S  FRIENDSHIP."  441 

which  may  not  be  until  to-morrow  ?  And  will  she  permit 
me  to  leave  Gerry  Brown  here,  for  form's  sake? 

Jim  Long  would  hardly  question  my  movements  and 
motives,  but  Mr.  Warren,  who  is  the  fourth  party  in  our 
confidence,  might.  So,  for  his  gratification,  I  will  leave 
Gerry  Brown  at  the  Hill. 

She  consents  readily  enough,  and  I  go  out  to  fetch  Gerry. 

"  Miss  Lowenstein,  this  is  my  friend,  Gerry  Brown,  who 
has  passed  the  night  in  your  barn  and  in  very  bad  com- 
pany. Will  you  take  pity  on  him  and  give  him  some 
breakfast?"  I  say,  as  we  appear  before  her. 

She  examines  Gerry's  handsome  face  attentively,  and 
then  says: 

"If  your  late  companions  were  bad,  Mr.  Brown,  you 
will  not  find  your  present  company  much  better.  You  do 
look  tired.  I  will  give  you  some  breakfast,  and  then  you 
can  lock  me  up." 

"I'll  eat  the  breakfast  with  relish,"  replies  Gerry, 
gallantly;  "but  as  for  locking  you  up,  excuse  me.  I've 
been  told  that  you  would  feed  me  and  let  me  lie  down 
somewhere  to  sleep;  and  I've  been  ordered  to  stay  here 
until  to-morrow.  It  looks  to  me  as  if  I  were  your  pris- 
oner, and  such  I  prefer  to  consider  myself." 

I  leave  them  to  settle  the  question  of  keeper  and  pris- 
oner as  best  they  can,  and  go  out  to  Jim. 

He  is  smoking  placidly,  with  Arch  Brookhouse,  in  a  fit 
of  the  sulks,  sitting  on  an  overturned  peck  measure  near 


442  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

by,  and  Dimber  Joe  asleep  on  a  bundle  of  hay  in  a  corner. 

We  arouse  Dim  bur  and  casting  off  the  fetters  from  their 
feet,  set  them  marching  toward  the  town  jail,  where  their 
brethren  in  iniquity  are  already  housed. 

Trafton  is  in  a  state  of  feverish  excitement.  As  we 
approach  the  jail  with  our  prisoners  the  air  is  rent  with 
jeers  and  hisses  for  them,  and  "three  cheers  for  the  de- 
tective," presumably  for  me. 

I  might  feel  flattered  and  gratified  at  their  friendly 
enthusiasm,  but,  unfortunately  for  my  pride,  I  have  had 
an  opportunity  to  learn  how  easily  Trafton  is  excited  to 
admiration  and  to  anger,  so  I  bear  my  honors  meekly,  and 
hide  my  blushing  face,  for  a  time,  behind  the  walls  of  the 
jail. 

All  the  vigilants  are  heroes  this  morning,  and  proud 
and  happy  is  the  citizen  who  can  adorn  his  breakfast  table 
with  one  of  the  band.  The  hungry  fellows,  nothing  loath, 
are  borne  away  one  by  one  in  triumph,  and  Jim  and  I,  who 
cling  together  tenaciously,  arc  wrangled  over  by  Justice 
Summers  and  Mr.  Harris,  and,  finally,  led  off  by  the 
latter. 

We  are  not  bored  with  questions  at  the  parsonage,  but 
good,  motherly  Mrs.  Harris  piles  up  our  plates,  and  looks 
on,  beaming  with  delight  to  see  her  good  things  disappear- 
ing down  our  hungry  throats. 

We  have  scarcely  finished  our  meal,  when  a  quick,  light 
step  crosses  the  hall,  and  Louise  Barnard  enters.  She  lias 


"LOUISE  BARNARD'S  FRIENDSHIP."  443 

hoard  the  clanging  bells  and  witnessed  the  excitement,  but, 
as  yet,  scarcely  comprehends  the  cause. 

"Mamma  is  so  anxious/'  she  says,  deprecatingly,  to  Mr. 
Harris,  "that  I  ran  in  to  ask  you  about  it,  before  going 
down  to  see  Carl — Dr.  Bethel." 

While  she  is  speaking,  a  new  thought  enters  my  head, 
and  I  say  to  myself  instantly,  "here  is  a  new  test  for 
Christianity/'  thinking  the  while  of  that  friendless  girl  at 
this  moment  a  paroled  prisoner. 

"Miss Barnard,"  I  say,  hastily,  "it  will  give  me  pleasure 
to  tell  you  all  about  this  excitement,  or  the  cause  of  it." 

"  If  I  understand  aright,  you  are  the  cause,  sir,"  she  re- 
plies, smilingly.  "How  horribly  you  have  deceived  us 
all !" 

"  But,"  interposes  Mr.  Harris,  "  this  is  asking  too  much, 
sir.  You  have  been  vigorously  at  work  all  night,  and 
now—" 

"  Never  mind  that,"  I  interrupt.  "  Men  in  my  profes- 
sion are  bred  to  these  things.  I  am  in  just  the  mood  for 
story  telling." 

They  seat  themselves  near  me.  Jim,  a  little  less  in- 
terested than  the  rest,  occupying  a  place  in  the  background. 
Charlie  Harris  is  away  at  his  office.  I  have  just  the  au- 
dience I  desire. 

I  begin  by  describing  very  briefly  my  hunt  for  the  Traf- 
ton  outlaws.  I  relate,  as  rapidly  as  possible,  the  manner 
in  which  they  were  captured,  skipping  details  as  much  as  I 


444  OUT  OP  A  LABYRINTH. 

can,  until  I  arrive  at  the  point  where  I  turn  from  the  Traf- 
ton  jail  to  go  to  The  Hill. 

Then  I  describe  my  interview  with  the  counterfeiter's 
daughter  minutely,  word  for  word  as  nearly  as  I  can.  I 
dwell  on  her  look,  her  tone,  her  manner,  I  repeat  her  words: 
"  I  wish  I  knew  how  another  woman  would  view  my  posi- 
tion. I  wish  I  knew  how  such  a  woman  as  Louise  Bar- 
nard would  advise  me."  I  omit  nothing;  I  am  trying  to 
win  a  friend  for  Adele  Lowenstein,  and  I  tell  her  story  as 
well  as  I  can. 

When  I  have  finished,  there  is  profound  silence  for  a 
full  moment,  and  then  Jim  Long  says: 

"  I  know  something  concerning  this  matter.  And  I  am 
satisfied  that  the  girl  has  told  no  mdre  and  no  less  than  the 
truth." 

I  take  out  a  pocket-book  containing  papers,  and  select 
one  from  among  them. 

"  This,"  I  say,  as  I  open  it,  "  is  a  letter  from  the  Chief 
of  our  force.  He  is  a  stern  old  criminal-hunter.  I  will 
read  you  what  he  says  in  regard  to  the  girl  we  have  known 
as  Adele  Manvers,  the  heiress.  Here  it  is." 

And  I  read: 

In  regard  to  Adele  Lowenstein,  I  send  you  the  papers  and  copied 
reports,  as  you  request;  but  let  me  say  to  you,  deal  with  her  as  mer- 
cifully as  possible.  There  should  be  much  good  in  a  girl  who  would 
go  to  prison  for  two  long  years,  rather  than  utter  one  word  disloyal 
to  her  counterfeiter  father.  Those  who  knew  her  best,  prior  to 
that  affair,  consider  her  a  victim  rather  than  a  sinner.  Time  may 


"LOUISE  BARNARD'S  FRIENDSHIP."  445 

have  hardened  her  nature,  but,  if  there  are  any  extenuating  circum- 
stances, consider  how  she  became  what  she  is,  and  temper  justice 
with  mercy. 

"  There,"  1  say,  as  I  fold  away  the  letter,  "  that's  a 
whole  sermon,  coming  from  our  usually  unsympathetic 
Chief.  Mr.  Harris,  I  wish  you  would  preach  another  of 
the  same  sort  to  the  Traftonites." 

Still  the  silence  continues.  Mr.  Harris  looks  serious  and 
somewhat  uneasy.  Mrs.  Harris  furtively  wipes  away  a 
tear  with  the  corner  of  her  apron.  Louise  Barnard  sits 
moveless,  for  a  time,  then  rises,  and  draws  her  light  Sum- 
mer scarf  about  her  shoulders  with  a  resolute  gesture. 

"  I  am  going  to  see  Adele,"  she  says,  turning  toward  the 
door. 

Mr.  Harris  rises  hastily.  He  is  a  model  of  theological 
conservatism. 

"  But,  Louise, — ah,  don't  be  hasty,  I  beg.  Really,  it  is 
not  wise." 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  she  retorts.  "  It  is  wise,  and  it  is  right.  I 
have  eaten  her  bread;  I  have  called  myself  her  friend ;  I 
shall  not  abandon  her  now." 

"  Neither  shall  I !"  cries  Mrs.  Harris,  bounding  up  with 
sudden  energy.  "  I'll  go  with  you,  Louise." 

"  But,  my  dear,"  expostulates  Mr.  Harris,  "  if  you 
really  insist,  I  will  go  first ;  then,  perhaps — " 

u  No,  you  won't  go  first,"  retorts  his  better  half.  "You 
don't  know  what  that  poor  girl  needs.  You'd  begin  at 


446  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

once  to  administer  death-bed  consolation.  That  will  do 
for  'Squire  Brookhouse,  but  not  for  a  friendless,  unhappy 
girl.  Take  your  foot  off  my  dress,  Mr.  Harris  ;  I'm  going 
for  my  bonnet !" 

She  conquers,  of  course,  gets  her  bonnet,  and  ties  it  on 
energetically. 

During  the  process,  I  turn  to  Jim. 

"  Long,"  I  say,  "  we  have  yet  one  task  to  perform.  Dr. 
Denham  is  on  duty  at  the  cottage,  and  fretting  and  fuming, 
no  doubt,  to  know  the  meaning  of  all  this  storm  in  Traf- 
ton.  Bethel,  too,  may  be  anxious — " 

"Now,  hear  him  !"  interrupts  our  hostess,  indignantly. 
"  Just  hear  that  man !  As  if  you  were  not  both  tired  to 
death  already.  You  two  are  to  stay  right  here  ;  one  in  the 
parlor  bed,  and  one  in  Charlie's  room  ;  and  you're  to  sleep 
until  dinner,  which  I'll  be  sure  to  have  late.  Mr.  Harris 
can  run  down  to  the  cottage  and  tell  all  the  news.  It  will 
keep  him  from  going  where  he  is  not  wanted." 

Mr.  Harris  warmly  seconds  this  plan.  Jim  and  I  are 
indeed  weary,  and  Mrs.  Harris  is  an  absolute  monarch. 
So  we  submit,  and  I  lay  my  tired  head  on  her  fat  pillows, 
feeling  that  everything  is  as  it  should  be. 


THE  STOKY  OF  HARVEY  JAMES.  447 


CHAPTER  XL. 

THE  STORY  OF  HARVEY  JAMES. 

It  is  late  in  the  afternoon  when  I  awake,  for  Mrs.  Har- 
ris has  been  better  than  her  word. 

Jim  is  already  up,  and  conversing  with  Mr.  Harris  on 
the  all-absorbing  topic,  of  course. 

After  a  bountiful  and  well-cooked  dinner  has  received 
our  attention,  Jim  and  I  go  together  to  the  cottage. 

Here  we  are  put  upon  the  witness  stand  by  "  our  old 
woman,"  who  takes  ample  vengeance  for  having  been  kept 
so  long  in  the  dark  concerning  my  business  in  Trafton. 

After  he  has  berated  us  to  his  entire  satisfaction,  and 
after  Bethel,  who,  having  heard  a  little,  insists  upon  hear- 
ing more,  has  been  gratified  by  an  account  of  the  capture, 
given  for  the  most  part  by  Jim  Long,  we  go  southward 
again  and  come  to  a  halt  in  Jim's  cottage.  Here  we  seat 
ourselves,  and,  at  last,  I  hear  the  story  of  Jim  Long,  or  the 
man  who  has,  for  years,  borne  that  name. 

"  My  name  is  Harvey  James,"  he  begins,  slowly.  "  My 
father  was  a  farmer,  and  I  was  born  upon  a  farm,  and  lived 
there  until  I  became  of  age. 


448  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"  Except  two  years  passed  at  a  college  not  far  from  my 
home,  I  had  never  been  a  week  away  from  my  father's 
farm.  But  after  my  twenty-first  birthday,  I  paid  a  visit 
to  the  city. 

"  It  was  short  and  uneventful,  but  it  unsettled  me.  I  was 
never  content  upon  the  home  farm  again. 

"After  my  father  died  and  the  property  came  into  my 
possession,  I  resolved  to  be  a  farmer  no  longer,  but  to  go 
and  increase  my  fortune  in  the  city. 

"  My  farm  was  large  and  val  liable,  and  there  was  con- 
siderable money  in  the  bank.  My  mother  clung  to  the 
farm;  so,  as  the  house  was  a  large  one,  I  reserved  for  her 
use,  and  mine  when  I  should  choose  to  come  home,  a  few 
of  the  pleasantest  rooms,  and  put  a  tenant  into  the  remain- 
der of  the  house. 

"  I  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  a  dear  girl,  the  daughter 
of  our  nearest  neighbor.  She  was  pretty  and  ambitious. 
She  heartily  approved  of  my  new  departure,  but  when 
I  urged  our  immediate  marriage,  she  put  the  matter  off, 
saying  tjiat  she  preferred  to  wait  a  year,  as  by  that  time 
I  should  be  a  city  gentleman  ;  and  until  I  should  have 
become  established  in  business,  I  would  have  no  time 
to  devote  to  a  rustic  wife.  If  she  had  married  me 
then,  my  fate  might  have  been  different,  God  knows  !  Bui 
I  went  to  the  city  alone,  and  before  the  year  had  elapsed  I 
was  in  a  prison  cell ! 

"  I  took  with  me  a  considerable  sum  of  money,  and  I 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVEY  JAMES.  449 

commenced  to  enjoy  city  life.  I  began  with  the  theaters 
and  billiards,  and  went  on  down  the  grade.  Before  I  had 
been  in  town  a  month  I  became  acquainted  with  Brooks, 
the  name  then  used  by  'SquireBrookhouse.  He  professed 
to  be  a  lawyer,  and  this  profession,  together  with  his  supe- 
rior age,  won  my  confidence,  as,  perhaps,  a  younger  man 
could  not  have  done.  After  a  time  he  made  me  ac- 
quainted with  Joe  Blaikie  and  Jake  Lowenstein,  both  bro- 
kers, so  he  said. 

"I  was  an  easy  victim;  I  soon  began  to  consult  the 
*  brokers'  as  to  the  best  investment  for  a  small  capital. 

"  Of  course  they  were  ready  to  help  me.  I  think  I  need 
not  enter  into  details  ;  you  know  how  such  scoundrels  work. 
We  soon  became  almost  inseparable,  and  I  thought  myself 
in  excellent  company,  and  wrote  glowing  letters  to  my 
mother  and  sweetheart,  telling  them  of  my  fine  new  friends 
and  the  promising  prospect  for  a  splendid  investment,  which 
was  to  double  my  money  speedily,  and  laying  great  stress 
upon  the  fact  that  my  prospective  good  fortune  would  be 
mainly  brought  about  by  my  '  friends,'  the  lawyer  and  the 
brokers,  who  'knew  the  ropes.' 

"At  last  the  day  came  when  I  drew  a  considerable  sum 
of  money  from  my  home  bankers,  to  invest  in  city  stock. 
The  'brokers'  strongly  advised  me  to  put  in  all  I  could 
command,  even  to  the  extent  of  mortgaging  my  farm,  but 
this  I  would  not  do.  I  adhered  to  my  stern  old  father's 
principle,  '  never  borrow  money  to  plant,'  and  I  would  not 

29 


450  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

encumber  my  land ;  but  I  drew  every  dollar  of  my  ready 
capital  for  the  venture. 

"I  had  established  myself  in  comfortable  rooms  at  a 
hotel,  which,  by-the-by,  was  recommended  me  by  Brooks, 
as  a  place  much  frequented  by  ' solid  men.'  And  soon  the 
three  blacklegs  began  dropping  in  upon  me  evenings,  some- 
times together,  sometimes  separately.  We  would  then 
amuse  ourselves  with  '  harmless'  games  of  cards.  After  a 
little  we  began  to  bet  chips  and  coppers,  to  make  the  game 
more  interesting. 

"They  worked  me  with  great  delicacy.  No  doubt  they 
could  have  snared  me  just  as  easily  with  half  the  troubje 
they  took.  I  was  fond  of  cards,  and  it  was  not  difficult  to 
draw  me  into  gambling.  I  had  learned  to  drink  wine, 
too,  and  more  than  once  they  had  left  me  half  intoxicated 
after  one  of  our  'pleasant  social  games,'  and  had  laughingly 
assured  me,  when,  after  sobering  up,  I  ventured  a  clumsy 
apology,  that  'it  was  not  worth  mentioning;  such  things 
would  sometimes  happen  to  gentlemen.' 

"On  the  night  of  my  downfall  I  had  all  my  money 
about  my  person,  intending  to  make  use  of  it  early  on  the 
following  morning.  I  expected  the  three  to  make  an  even- 
ing in  my  room,  but  at  about  eight  o'clock  Lowenstein 
came  in  alone  and  looking  anxious. 

"  He  said  that  he  had  just  received  a  telegram  from  a 
client  who  had  entrusted  him  with  the  sale  of  a  large  block 
of  buildings,  and  he  must  go  to  see  him  that  evening.  It 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVEY  JAMES.  451 

was  a  long  distance,  and  he  would  be  out  late.  He  had 
about  him  a  quantity  of  gold,  paid  in  to  him  after  banking 
hours,  and  he  did  not  like  to  take  it  with  him.  He  wanted 
to  leave  it  in  my  keeping,  as  he  knew  that  I  intended  pass- 
ing the  evening  in  my  rooms,  and  as  he  was  not  afraid  to 
trust  me  with  so  large  a  sum. 

"  I  took  the  bait,  and  the  money,  three  rouleaux  of  gold  ; 
and  then,  after  I  had  listened  to  his  regrets  at  his  inability  to 
make  one  at  our  social  game  that  evening,  I  bowed  him  out 
and  locked  the  door. 

"As  I  opened  my  trunk  and  secreted  the  money  in  the 
very  bottom,  underneath  a  pile  of  clothing  and  books,  I 
was  swelling  with  gratified  vanity,  blind  fool  that  I  was, 
at  the  thought  of  the  trust  imparted  to  me.  Did  it  not 
signify  the  high  value  placed  upon  my  shrewdness  and  in- 
tegrity by  this  discriminating  man  of  business? 

"  Presently  Brooks  and  Blaikie  came,  and  we  sat  down 
to  cards  and  wine.  Blaikie  had  brought  with  him  some 
bottles  of  a  choice  brand,  and  it  had  an  unusual  effect  upon 
me. 

"My  recollections  of  that  evening  are  very  indistinct. 
I  won  some  gold  pieces  from  Brooks,  and  jingled  them  trium- 
phantly in  my  pockets,  while  Blaikie  refilled  my  glass. 
After  that  my  remembrance  is  blurred  and  then  blank. 

"I  do  not  think  that  I  drank  as  much  wine  as  usual,  for 
when  I  awoke  it  was  not  from  the  sleep  of  intoxication. 
I  was  languid,  and  my  head  ached,  but  my  brain  was  not 


452  OUT  OF  A  LABYEINTH. 

clouded.  My  memory  served  me  well.  I  remembered, 
first  of  all,  my  new  business  enterprise,  and  then  recalled 
the  events  of  the  previous  evening,  up  to  the  time  of  my 
drinking  a  second  glass  of  wine. 

"I  was  lying  upon  my  bed,  dressed,  as  I  had  been  when 
I  sat  down  to  play  cards  with  Brooks  and  Blaikie.  I 
strove  to  remember  how  I  came  there  on  the  bed,  but 
could  not;  then  I  got  up  and  looked  about  the  room. 

"Our  card  table  stood  there  with  the  cards  scattered 
over  it.  On  the  floor  was  an  empty  wine-bottle — where 
was  the  other,  for  Blaikie  had  brought  two?  On  a  side 
table  sat  two  wine-glasses,  each  containing  a  few  drops  of 
wine,  and  a  third  which  was  clean,  as  if  it  had  been  un- 
used. 

"Two  chairs  stood  near  the  table,  as  if  lately  occupied 
by  players. 

"What  did  it  mean? 

"I  stepped  to  the  door  and  found  that  it  had  not  been 
locked.  Then  I  thought  of  my  money.  It  was  gone,  of 
course.  But  I  still  had  in  my  pockets  the  loose  gold  won 
at  our  first  game,  and  the  three  rouleaux  left  by  Lowen- 
stein  were  still  in  my  trunk.  I  had  also  won  from  Brooks 
two  or  three  bank  notes,  and  these  also  I  had. 

"You  can  easily  guess  the  rest.  The  three  sharpers  had 
planned  to  secure  my  money,  and  had  succeeded ;  and  to 
protect  themselves,  and  get  me  comfortably  out  of  the  way. 
they  had  laid  the  trap  into  which  I  fell. 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVEY  JAMES.  453 

"Blaikie  appeared  at  the  police  station,  and  entered  his 
complaint.  He  had  been  invited  to  join  in  a  social  game 
of  cards  at  my  rooms.  When  he  arrived  there,  Brooks 
was  there,  seemingly  on  business,  but  he  had  remained  but 
a  short  time.  Then  we  had  played  cards,  and  Blaikie  had 
lost  some  bank-notes.  Next  he  won,  and  I  had  paid  him 
in  gold  pieces.  He  had  then  staked  his  diamond  studs,  as 
lie  had  very  little  money  about  him.  These  I  had  won, 
and  next  had  permitted  him  to  win  a  few  more  gold  pieces. 
Blaikie  did  not  accuse  me  of  cheating,  oh,  no ;  but  he  had 
just  found  that  I  had  won  his  diamonds  and  his  honest 
money,  and  had  paid  him  in  counterfeit  coin. 

"At  that  time,  Blaikie  had  not  become  so  prominent  a 
rogue  as  he  now  is.  His  story  was  credited,  and,  while 
I  was  yet  frantically  searching  for  my  lost  money,  the 
police  swooped  down  upon  me,  and  I  was  arrested  for  hav- 
ing circulated  counterfeit  money.  The  scattered  cards,  the 
two  wine-glasses,  the  two  chairs,  all  substantiated  Blaikie's 
story. 

"A  search  through  my  room  brought  to  light  Blaikie's 
diamonds,  and  some  plates  for  engraving  counterfeit  ten 
dollar  bills,  hidden  in  the  same  receptacle.  In  my  trunk 
were  the  three  rouleaux  of  freshly-coined  counterfeit  gold 
pieces,  and  in  my  pockets  were  some  more  loose  counter- 
feit coin,  together  with  the  bank-notes  which  Blaikie  had 
described  to  the  Captain  of  police. 

"It  was  a  cunning  plot,  and  it  succeeded.     I  fought  for 


454  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

my  liberty  as  only  a  desperate  man  will.  I  told  my  story. 
I  accused  Blaikie  and  his  associates  of  having  robbed  me. 
I  proved,  by  my  bankers,  that  a  large  sum  of  money  had 
actually  come  into  my  possession  only  the  day  before  my 
arrest.  But  the  web  held  me.  Brooks  corroborated  Blaikie'a 
statements;  Lowenstein  could  not  be  found. 

"  I  was  tried,  found  guilty,  and  condemned  for  four 
years  to  State's  prison.  A  light  sentence,  the  judge  pro- 
nounced it,  but  those  four  years  put  streaks  of  gray  in  my 
hair  and  changed  me  wonderfully,  physically  and  men- 
tally. 

"I  had  gone  in  a  tall,  straight  young  fellow,  with  beard- 
less face  and  fresh  color;  I  came  out  a  grave  man,  with 
stooping  shoulders,  sallow  skin,  and  hair  streaked  with 
gray. 

"  My  mother  had  died  during  my  imprisonment;  my 
promised  wife  had  married  another  man.  I  sold  my  farm  and 
went  again  to  the  city;  this  time  with  a  fixed  purpose  in 
my  heart.  I  would  find  my  enemies  and  revenge  my- 
self. 

"  I  let  my  beard  grow,  I  dropped  all  habits  of  correct 
speaking,  I  became  a  slouching,  shabbily-dressed  loafer.  I 
had  no  reason  to  fear  recognition, — the  change  in  me  was 
complete." 

He  paused,  and  seemed  lost  in  gloomy  meditations,  then 
resumed: 

"  It  was  more  than  three  months  before  I  struck  the 


THE  STOI1\  OP  HARVEY  JAMES. 


trail  of  the  gang,  and  then  one  day  I  saw  Brooks  on  the 
street,  followed  him,  and  tracked  him  to  Trafton.  He  had 
just  purchased  the  '  Brpokhouse  farm'  and  I  learned  for 
the  first  time  that  he  had  a  wife  and  family.  I  found  that 
Lowenstein,  too,  had  settled  in  Trafton,  having  been  ar- 
rested, and  escaped  during  my  long  imprisonment;  and  I 
decided  to  remain  also.  I  had  learned,  during  my  farm 
life,  something  about  farriery,  and  introduced  myself  as  a 
traveling  horse  doctor,  with  a  fancy  for  'settling'  in  a  good 
location.  And  so  I  became  the  Jim  Long  you  have 
known. 

"  I  knew  that  the  presence  of  '  'Squire  Brookhouse'  and 
'  Captain  Manvers,  late  of  the  navy,'  boded  no  good  to 
Trafton;  I  knew,  too,  that  Lowenstein  was  an  escaped  con- 
vict, and  I  might  have  given  him  up  at  once;  but  that 
would  have  betrayed  my  identity,  and  Brooks  might  then 
escape  me.  So  I  waited,  but  not  long. 

"One  day  'Captain  Manvers,'  in  his  seaman's  make-up, 
actually  ventured  to  visit  the  city.  Pie  had  so  changed  his 
appearance  that,  but  for  my  interference,  he  might  have 
been  safe  enough.  But  my  time  had  come.  I  sent  a  tele- 
gram to  the  chief  of  police,  telling  him  that  Jake  Lowen- 
stein was  coming  to  the  city,  describing  his  make-up,  and 
giving  the  time  and  train.  I  walked  to  the  next  station 
to  send  the  message,  waited  to  have  it  verified,  and  walked 
back  content. 

"  When  Jake  Lowenstein   arrived  in  the   city,  he  was 


<15t>  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

followed,  and  in  attempting  to  resist  the  officers,  he  was 
killed. 

"Since  that  time,  I  have  tried,  and  tried  vainly,  to  un- 
ravel the  mystery  surrounding  these  robberies.  Of  course, 
I  knew  Brooks  and  his  gang  to  be  the  guilty  parties,  but 
I  was  only  one  man.  I  could  not  be  everywhere  at  once, 
and  I  could  never  gather  sufficient  evidence  to  insure  their 
conviction,  because,  like  all  the  rest  of  Trafton,  I  never 
thought  of  finding  the  stolen  horses  in  the  very  midst  of 
the  town.  I  assisted  in  organizing  the  vigilants,  but  we 
all  watched  the  roads  leading  out  from  the  town,  and  were 
astounded  at  our  constant  failures. 

"  And  now  you  know  why  I  hailed  your  advent  in  Trafton. 
For  four  years  I  have  hoped  for  the  coming  of  a  detective. 
I  would  have  employed  one  on  my  own  account,  but  I 
shrank  from  betraying  my  identity,  as  I  must  do  in  order 
to  secure  confidence.  In  every  stranger  who  came  to  Trafton 
I  have  hoped  to  find  a  detective.  At  first  I  thought  Bethel 
to  be  one,  and  I  was  not  slow  in  making  his  acquaintance. 
I  watched  him,  I  weighed  his  words,  and,  finally,  gave 
him  up. 

"When  you  came  I  made  your  acquaintance,  as  I  did 
that  of  every  stranger  who  tarried  long  in  Trafton.  You 
were  discreetness  itself,  and  the  man  you  called  Barney  was 
a  capital  actor,  and  a  rare  good  fellow  too.  But  I  studied 
you  as  no  other  man  did.  When  I  answered  your  careless 
questions  I  calculated  your  possible  meaning.  Do  you 


THE  STORY  OF  HARVEY  JAMES.  457 

remember  a  conversation  of  ours  when  I  gave  my  opinion 
of  Dr.  Bethel,  and  the  'average  Traftonite'V" 

"Yes;  and  also  told  us  about  Miss  Manvers  and  the 
treasure-ship.  Those  bits  of  gossip  gave  us  some  painters." 

"I  meant  that  they  should.  And  now  you  know  why  I 
preferred  to  hang  on  the  heels  of  Joe  Blaikie  rather  than 
go  with  the  vigilants." 

"  I  understand.  Has  Blaikie  been  a  member  of  the  gang 
from  the  first?" 

"  I  think  not.  Of  course  when  I  heard  that  Brooks  in- 
tended to  employ  a  detective,  I  was  on  the  alert.  And 
when  Joe  Blaikie  and  that  other  fellow,  who  was  a  stranger 
to  me,  came  and  established  themselves  at  the  Trafton 
House,  I  understood  the  game.  They  were  to  personate 
detectives.  Brooks  was  too  cunning  to  make  their  preten- 
ded occupations  too  conspicuous;  but  he  confided  the  secret 
to  a  few  good  citizens  who  might  have  grown  uneasy,  and 
asked  troublesome  questions,  if  they  had  not  been  thus 
confided  in.  I  think  that  Blaikie  and  Brooks  went  their 
separate  ways,  when  the  latter  became  a  country  gentle- 
man. Blaikie  is  too  cowardly  a  cur  ever  to  succeed 
as  a  horse-thief,  and  Brooks  was  the  man  to  recognize 
that  fact.  I  think  Blaikie  was  simply  a  tool  for  this 
emergency." 

"Very  probable.  When  you  told  my  landlord  that 
Blaikie  was  a  detective,  did  you  expect  the  news  to  reach 

me  through  him  ?" 

*20 


458  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

"I  did,"  with  a  quizzical  glance  at  me;  "and  it  reached 
you,  I  take  it." 

"Yes;  it  reached  me.  And  now,  Long — it  seems  most 
natural  to  call  you  so — I  will  make  no  comments  upon  your 
story  now.  I  think  you  are  assured  of  my  friendship  and 
sympathy.  I  can  act  better  than  I  can  talk.  But  be  sure 
of  one  thing,  from  henceforth  you  stand  clear  of  all  charges 
against  you.  The  man  who  shot  Dr.  Bethel  is  now  in 
limbo,  and  he  will  confess  the  whole  plot  on  the  witness 
stand ;  and,  as  for  the  old  trouble,  Joe  Blaikie  shall  tell 
llh1  rtuh  concerning  that." 

He  lifts  his  head  and  looks  at  me  steadfastly  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"When  that  is  accomplished,"  he  says,  earnestly,  "I 
shall  feel  myself  once  more  a  man  among  men." 


A  GATHERING  OF  THE  FRAGMENTS.         459 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

A  GATHERING  OF  THE  FRAGMENTS. 

There  was  a  meeting  of  the  vigilants  that  night  and 
Gerry  Brown,  Mr.  Harris,  Justice  Summers  and  myself, 
were  present  with  them. 

I  gave  them  the  details  of  my  investigation,  and  related 
the  cause  of  Doctor  Bethel's  troubles.  When  they  under- 
stood that  the  outlaws  had  looked  upon  Bethel  as  a  de- 
tective, and  their  natural  enemy,  the  vigilants  were  ready 
to  anticipate  the  rest  of  my  story. 

When  everything  concerning  the  male  members  of  the 
clique  had  been  discussed,  I  entered  a  plea  for  Adele  Lowen- 
stein,  and  my  audience  was  not  slow  to  respond. 

Mr.  Harris  arose  in  his  place,  and  gave  a  concise  ac- 
count of  the  visit  paid  by  his  wife  and  Miss  Barnard  to 
the  dethroned  heiress,  as  he  had  heard  it  described  by  Mi's. 
Harris. 

Adele  Lowenstein  had  been  sincerely  grateful  for  their 
kindncs=,  and  had  consented  to  act  precisely  as  they  should 
advise,  let  the  result  be  what  it  would.  She  would  give 
her  testimony  against  the  horse-thieves,  and  trust  to  the 
mercy  of  the  Traftonites.  Her  story  may  as  well  be  com- 
pleted here,  for  there  is  little  more  to  tell. 


460  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

She  was  not  made  a  prisoner.  Mrs.  Harris  and  Louise 
Barnard  were  not  the  women  to  do  things  by  halves.  They 
used  all  their  influence  in  her  favor,  and  they  had  the 
vigilants  and  many  of  the  best  citizens  to  aid  them.  Thej- 
disarmed  public  opinion.  They  appealed  to  men  high  in 
power  and  won  their  championship.  They  conducted  their 
campaign  wisely  and  they  carried  the  day. 

There  were  found  for  Adele  Lowenstein,  the  counter- 
feiter's daughter,  "extenuating  circumstances:"  what  the 
jury  could  not  do  thegovernor  did,  and  she  went  out  from 
the  place,  where  justice  had  been  tempered  with  mercy,  a 
free  woman. 

The  Hill  was  sold,  and  Miss  Lowenstein,  who  had 
avowed  her  intention  of  retaking  her  father's  name,  sullied 
as  it  was,  prepared  to  find  a  new  home  in  some  far  away 
city. 

One  day  while  the  trial  was  pending,  Gerry  Brown 
came  to  me  with  fidgety  manner  and  serious  counten- 
ance. 

"Old  man,"  he  said,  anxiously,  "I've  been  thinking 
about  Miss  Loweustein." 

"Stop  it,  Gerry.  It's  a  dangerous  occupation  for  a 
fellow  of  your  age." 

"My,  age  indeed!  Two  years,  four  months  and  seven- 
teen days  younger  than  your  ancient  highness,  I  be- 
lieve." 

"  A  man  may  learn  much  in  two  years,  four  months,  and 


A  GATHERING  OF  THE  FRAGMENTS.  461 

seventeen  days — ,  Gerry.     What  about  Miss  Lowenstein  ?" 

"I'm  sorry  for  the  girl." 

"So  am  I." 

"Don't  be  a  bore,  old  man." 

"Then  come  to  the  point,  youngster." 

"Youngster!"  indignantly,  "well,  I'll  put  that  to  our 
private  account.  About  Miss  Lowenstein,  then:  She  is 
without  friends,  and  is  just  the  sort  of  woman  who  needs 
occupation  to  keep  her  out  of  mischief  and  contented.  She's 
ladylike  and  clever,  and  she  knows  the  world;  don't  you 
think  she  would  be  a  good  hand  on  the  force." 

I  paused  to  consider.  I  knew  the  kind  of  woman  that  we 
sometimes  needed,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  Adele  Lowen- 
stein would  "  be  a  good  hand."  I  knew,  too,  that  our 
Chief  was  not  entirely  satisfied  with  one  or  two  women  in 
his  employ.  So  I  stopped  chaffing  Gerry  and  said  sober- 

ly. 

"Gerry,  it's  a  good  idea.  We'll  consult  the  lady  and  if 
she  would  like  the  occupation,  I  will  write  to  our  Chief." 

Adele  Lowenstein  was  eager  to  enter  upon  a  career  so 
much  to  her  taste,  and  our  Chief  was  consulted.  He 
manifested  a  desire  to  see  the  lady,  and  she  went  to  the 
city. 

The  interview  was  satisfactory  to  both.  Adele  Lowen- 
stein became  one  of  our  force,  and  a  very  valuable  and 
efficient  addition  she  proved. 

I  had  assured  Jim  Long, — even  yet  I  find  it  difficult  to 


462  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

call  him  Harvey  James, — that  his  name  should  be  freed 
from  blot  or  suspicion.  And  it  was  not  so  hard  a  task  as 
he  evidently  thought  it. 

Blake  Simpson,  like  most  scamps  of  his  class,  was  only 
too  glad  to  do  anything  that  would  lighten  his  own.  sen- 
tence, and  when  he  found  that  the  Brookhouse  faction  had 
come  to  grief,  and  that  his  own  part  in  their  plot  had 
been  traced  home  to  him  by  "the  detectives,"  he  weakened 
at  once,  and  lost  no  time  in  turning  State's  evidence.  He 
confessed  that  he  had  come  to  Trafton,  in  company  with 
Dimber  Joe,  to"  play  detective,"  at  the  instigation,  and  under 
the  pay  of  Brookhouse  senior,  who  had  visited  the  city  to 
procure  their  services.  And  that  Arch  Brookhouse  had 
afterward  bribed  him  to  make  the  assault  upon  Bethel,  and 
planned  the  mode  of  attack;  sending  him,  Simpson,  to  Ire- 
ton,  and  giving  him  a  note  to  the  elder  Briggs,  who  fur- 
nished him  with  the  little  team  and  light  buggy,  which 
took  him  back  to  Trafton,  where  the  shooting  was  done 
precisely  as  I  had  supposed  after  my  investigation. 

Dimber  Joe  made  a  somewhat  stouter  resistance,  and  I 
offered  him  two  alternatives. 

He  might  confess  the  truth  concerning  the  accusations 
under  which  Harvey  James  had  been  tried  and  wrongfully 
imprisoned;  in  which  case  I  would  not  testify  against  him 
except  so  far  as  he  had  been  connected  with  the  horse-thieves 
in  the  capacity  of  sham  detective  and  spy.  Or,  he  might 
refuse  to  do  Harvey  James  justice,  in  which  case  I  would 


A  GATHEKIXG  OF  THE  FRAGMENTS.  463 

put  Brooks  on  the  witness  stand  to  exonerate  James,  and  I 
myself  would  lessen  his  chances  for  obtaining  a  light  sen- 
tence, by  showing  him  up  to  the  court  as  the  villain  he  was; 
garroter,  panel-worker,  counterfeiter,  burglar,  and  general 
utility  rascal. 

Brooks  or  Brookhouse  was  certain  of  a  long  sentence,  I 
assured  Blaikie,  and  he  would  benefit  rather  than  injure 
his  cause  by  exposing  the  plot  to  ruin  and  fleece  James. 
Would  Mr.  Blaikie  choose,  and  choose  quickly? 

And  Mr.  Blaikie,  after  a  brief  consideration,  chose  to 
tell  the  truth,  and  forever  remove  from  Harvey  James  the 
brand  of  counterfeiter. 

The  testimony  against  the  entire  gang  was  clear  and 
conclusive.  The  elder  Brookhouse,  knowing  this,  made 
very  little  eftort  to  defend  himself  and  his  band,  and  so 
"  The  Squire"  and  Arch  Brookhouse  were  sentenced  for 
long  terms.  Louis  Brookhouse,  the  two  Briggs,  Ed.  D wight, 
the  festive,  Larkins  and  the  two  city  scamps,  were  sen- 
tenced for  lesser  periods,  but  none  escaped  lightly. 

Only  one  question,  and  that  one  of  minor  importance, 
yet  lacked  an  answer,  and  one  day,  before  his  trial,  I 
visited  Arch  Brookhouse  in  his  cell,  my  chief  purpose  being 
to  ask  this  question. 

"There  is  one   fhin^ "  I  said,  after  a  few  words  had 

O  *  / 

passed  between  us,  "there  is  one  thing  that  I  should  like 
you  to  tell  me,  merely  as  a  matter  of  self-gratification,  as  it  is 
now  of  no  special  importance ;  and  that  is,  how  did  you 


464  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

discover  ray  identity,  when  I  went  to  Mrs.  Ballou's  dis- 
guised as  a  Swede?" 

He  laughed  harshly. 

"You  detectives  do  not  always  cover  up  your  tracks," 
he  said,  with  a  sneer.  "I  don't  object  to  telling  you  what 
you  seem  so  curious  about.  'Squire  Ewing  and  Mr.  Rutger 
went  to  the  city  to  employ  you,  and  no  doubt  you  charged 
them  to  be  secret  as  the  grave  concerning  your  plans. 
Nevertheless,  Mr.  Rutger,  who  is  a  simple-minded  confid- 
ing soul,  told  the  secret  in  great  confidence  to  Farmer  La 
Porte;  and  he  repeated  it,  again  in  great  confidence  in  the 
bosom  of  his  family." 

"And  in  the  presence  of  his  son,  Johnnie?" 

"Just  so.  When  we  learned  that  a  disguised  detective 
was  coming  into  the  community,  and  that  he  would  appear 
within  a  certain  time,  we  began  to  look  for  him,  and  you 
were  the  only  stranger  we  discovered." 

"And  you  wrote  me  that  letter  of  warning?" 

"Precisely." 

"And  undoubtedly  you  are  the  fellow  who  shot  at 
me?" 

"I  am  happy  to  say  that  I  am." 

"And  I  am  happy  to  know  that  I  have  deprived  you  of 
the  pleasure  of  handling  fire-arms  again  for  some  time  to 
come.  Good  morning,  Mr.  Brookhouse." 

That  was  my  final  interview  with  Arch  Brookhouse,  but 
I  saw  him  once  more,  for  the  last  time,  when  I  gave  my 


A   GATHERING  OF  THE  FRAGMENTS.  465 

testimony  against  him  at  the  famous  trial  of  the  Trafton 
horse-thieves.  „ 

When  the  whole  truth  concerning  the  modus  operandi 
of  the  horse-thieves  was  made  public  at  the  trial,  when  the 
Traftonites  learned  that  for  five  years  they  had  harbored 
stolen  horses  under  the  very  steeples  of  the  town,  and  that 
those  horses,  when  the  heat  of  the  chase  was  over,  were 
boldly  driven  away  across  the  country  and  toward  the  river 
before  a  lumbering  coal  cart,  they  were  astounded  at  the 
boldness  of  the  scheme,  and  the  hardihood  of  the  men  who 
had  planned  it. 

But  they  no  longer  marveled  at  their  own   inability  to 

fathom  so  cunning  a  plot. 

30 


466  OUT  OF  A  LABYiUNTH. 


CHAPTER  XLI1. 

IN  CONCLUSION. 

When  Winter  closed  in,  and  the  first  snow  mantled  the 
farms  of  Groveland,  the  poor  girl  whom  Johnny  La  Porte 
had  reluctantly  made  his  wife,  closed  her  eyes  upon  this 
earthly  panorama. 

She  never  rallied  after  her  return  from  the  South.  They 
said  that  she  died  of  consumption,  but  her  friends  knew, 
whatever  medical  name  might  be  applied  to  her  disease  at 
the  end,  that  it  began  with  a  broken  heart. 

When  it  was  over,  and  Nellie  Ewing  had  no  further 
need  of  his  presence,  Johnny  La  Porte, — who,  held  to  his 
duty  by  the  stern  and  oftentimes 'menacing  eye  of  'Squire 
Ewing,  as  well  as  by  the  fear  which  Games  had  implanted 
in  his  heart,  had  been  as  faithful  and  as  gentle  to  his  poor 
wife  as  it  was  in  his  worthless  nature  to  be, — now  found 
himself  shunned  in  the  community  where  he  had  once  been 
petted  and  flattered. 

There  was  no  forgiveness  in  the  heart  of 'Squire  Ewing, 
and  his  door  was  closed  against  his  daughter's  destroyer; 
for  such  the  Grovelanders,  in  spite  of  his  tardy  reparation, 
considered  Johnny  La  Porte. 

He  attempted  to  resume  his  old  life  in  Grovelaud ;  but 


IN  CONCLUSION.  467 

'Squire  Ewing  was  beloved  in  the  community,  and  when 
he  turned  his  back  upon  Johnny  La  Porte  his  neighbors 
followed  his  example. 

Nowhere  among  those  cordial  Grovelanders  was  there  u 
place  or  a  welcome  for  the  man  who  had  blighted  the  life 
of  Nellie  Ewing,  and  so  he  drifted  away  from  Grovelaml, 
to  sink  lower  and  lower  in  the  scale  of  manhood — dissolute, 
brainless,  a  cumberer  of  the  ground. 

Nellie  Ewing's  sad  death  had  its  effect  upon  thoughtless 
little  Mamie  Rutger.  She  was  shocked  into  sobriety,  and 
her  grief  at  the  loss  of  her  friend  brought  with  it  shame 
for  her  own  folly,  and  then  repentance  and  a  sincere  effort 
to  be  a  more  dutiful  daughter  and  a  better  woman. 

Mrs.  Ballou  put  her  threat  into  execution  after  mature 
deliberation.  She  put  her  daughter  Grace  into  a  convent 
school,  and  then,  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure,  she  rented 
her  fine  farm,  and  look  up  her  abode  near  that  of  the  good 
sisters  who  had  charge  of  her  daughter's  mental  and  spiri- 
tual welfare. 

As  for  the  Little  Adelphi  and  Fred  Brookhouse,  they 
both  lost  prestige  after  coming  under  the  severe  scrutiny  of 
the  police.  One  iniquitous  disco  very  concerning  the  theatre 
and  its  manager  led  to  more;  and  before  another  Spring 
visited  the  Sunny  South,  the  Little  Adelphi  and  Fred 
Brook  house  had  vanished  together,  the  one  transformed 
into  an  excellent  green  grocers'  establishment,  and  the 
other  into  a  strolling  disciple  of  chance. 


468  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

Amy  Holmes  clung  to  the  Little  Adelphi  to  the  last; 
and,  after  its  final  fall,  she,  too,  wandered  away  from  New 
Orleans,  carrying  with  her,  her  secret  which  had  been  so 
serviceable  a  weapon  in  the  hands  of  Games,  but  which  he 
never  knew. 

It  is  written  in  the  book  of  Fate  that  I  shall  pay  one 
more  visit  to  Trafton. 

This  time  there  is  no  gloom,  no  plotting;  there  are  no 
wrongs  to  right.  The  time  is  the  fairest  of  the  year,  May 
time,  and  the  occasion  is  a  joyous  one. 

Doctor  Denham,  funny,  talkative,  and  lovable  as  ever; 
Carnes,  bubbling  over  with  whimsical  Hibernianisms;  Gerry 
Brown,  handsome  and  in  high  spirits;  and  myself,  quite 
as  happy  as  are  the  rest;  all  step  down  upon  the  platform 
at  the  Trafton  depot,  and  one  after  another  grasp  the  out- 
stretched hands  of  Harvey  James,  whom  we  all  will  call 
Jim  Long  in  spite  of  ourselves,  and  then  receive  the  hearty 
welcome  of  the  Harris's,  senior  and  junior,  and  many  other 
Traftonites. 

We  have  come  to  witness  the  end  of  our  Trafton  drama, 
viz.,  the  marriage  of  Louise  Barnard  and  Carl  Bethel. 

Bethel  is  as  happy  as  mortals  are  ever  permitted  to  bo 
and  as  handsome  as  a  demigod.  There  are  left  no  traces 
of  his  former  suffering;  the  wound  inflicted  by  a  hired  as- 
sassin has  healed,  leaving  him  as  strong  as  of  old,  and  only 
the  scar  upon  his  breast  remains  to  tell  the  story  of  the 
long  days  when  his  life  hung  by  a  thread. 


IN  CONCLUSION.  469 

Of  the  blow  that  was  aimed  at  his  honor,  there  remains 
not  even  a  scar.  The  plot  of  the  grave  robbers  has  re- 
coiled upon  their  own  heads.  Dr.  Carl  Bethel  is  to-day 
the  leading  physician,  and  the  most  popular  man  in  Traf- 
ton.  m 

"  I  have  waited  for  this  event,"  says  Harvey  James,  as 
we  sit  chatting  together  an  hour  before  the  marriage.  "  I 
have  waited  to  see  them  married,  and  after  this  is  over,  I 
am  going  West." 

"Not  out  of  our  reach,  I  hope!" 

"No;  I  have  still  the  surplus  of  the  price  of  my  farm  ; 
enough  to  buy  me  a  ranche  and  stock  it  finely.  I  mean  to 
build  a  roomy  cabin  and  fit  it  up  so  as  to  accomodate  guests. 
Then  by  and  by,  when  you  want  another  Summer's  vacation, 
you  and  Carnes  shall  come  to  my  ranche.  I  have  talked 
over  my  plans  with  Bethel  and  his  bride,  and  they  have 
already  accepted  my  hospitality  for  next  year's  vacation. 
I  anticipate  some  years  of  genuine  comfort  yet,  for  I  have 
long  wanted  to  explore  the  West,  and  try  life  as  a  ranch- 
man, but  I  would  not  leave  Trafton  while  Brooks  con- 
tinued to  flourish  in  it.  Do  you  mean  to  accept  my  invi- 
tation, sir?" 

"  I  do,  indeed ;  and  as  for  Carnes,  you'll  get  him  to  come 
easier  than  you  can  persuade  him  to  leave." 

"Nothing  could  suit  me  better." 

Louise  Barnard  made  a  lovely  bride,  and  there  never 
was  a  merrier  or  more  harmonious  wedding  party. 


470  OUT  OF  A  LABYRINTH. 

During  the  evening,  however,  the  fair  bride  approached 
Jim — or  Harvey  James — and  myself,  as  we  stood  a  little 
aloof  from  the  others.  There  was  the  least  bit  of  a  frown 
upon  her  face,  too,  as  she  said : 

"I  can't  help  feeling  cross  with  you,  sir  detective. 
Somebody  must  bear  the  blame  of  not  bringing  Adele 
Lowenstein  to  my  wedding.  I  wrote  her  that  I  should 
take  her  presence  as  a  sign  that  she  fully  believed  in  the 
sincerity  of  my  friendship,  and  that  Trafton  would  thus 
be  assured  of  my  entire  faith  in  her,  and  yet,  she-declined." 

I  do  not  know  what  to  say  in  reply.  So  I  drop  my  eyes 
and  mentally  anathematize  my  own  stupidity. 

"Bo  you  know  why  she  refused  to  come?"  she  persists. 

While  I  still  hesitate,  Jim — I  must  say  Jim — touches 
my  arm. 

"Your  delicacy  is  commendable,"  he  says  in  my  ear. 
"But  would  it  not  be  better  to  tell  Mrs.  Bethel  the  truth, 
than  to  allow  her  to  think  the  woman  she  has  befriended, 
ungrateful?" 

I  feel  that  he  is  wise  and  I  am  foolish;  so  I  lift  my 
eves  to  her  face  and  say : 

"Mrs.  Bethel,  Adele  Lowenstein  had  one  secret  that  you 
never  guessed.  If  you  had  seen  her,  as  I  saw  her,  at  the 
bedside  of  your  husband,  on  the  day  after  the  attempt  upon 
liis  life,  you,  of  all  women  in  the  world,  would  understand 
best  why  she  is  not  at  your  wedding  to-day." 

She  utters  a  startled  exclamation,  and  her  eyes  turn 


IN  CONCLUSION.  471 

involuntarily  to  where  Carl  Bethel  stands,  tall  and  splendid, 
among  his  guests;  then  a  look  of  pitying  tenderness  comes 
into  her  face. 

"  Poor  Adele !"  she  says  softly,  and  turns  slowly 
away. 

"Adele  Lowenstein  is  not  the  woman  to  forget  easily," 
I  say  to  my  companion.  "But  there,"  and  I  nod  toward 
Gerry  Brown,  "is  the  man  who  would  willingly  teach  her 
the  lesson." 

"Then,"  says  Jim,  contentedly,  "it  is  only  a  question  of 
time.  Gerry  Brown  is  bound  to  win." 


THE  END. 


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IBjr    TLMjASWTELJESNCtt     Xj.     HTX-T^OIE^ 

Author  of  "Shadowed  by  Three."    "Out  of  a  Labyrinth,"  etc.,  etc. 
Illustrated  with  45  Original  Engravings. 


CONTENTS.—  The  Ljvers'  Meeting,  The  Serpent  in  Eden.  ASudc.c  \ 
Departure.  What  the  Old  Tree  Revealed.  Two  Heartless  Plotters.  Tl  j 
Story  of  a  Mother's  Wrongs  ami  a  Husband's  Crimes.  Turns  her  Back  o- 
the  old  Home,  and  Trusts  the  Future  and  Lucian  Davlin.  Nurse  Hagar  i 
"Out  of  Sorts."  Madeline  Defies  her  Enemies.  "  1'ou  are  her  Murderer  ! 
The  Hallway  Station  at  Night.  A  Disappointed  Schemer  Rejoiced.  Mad- 
eline's Flight.  The  Night  Journey  to  New  York.  A  Friendly  Warning 
Unheeded.  "  Take  it;  In  the  A  ame  of  your  Mother  I  ask  it!"  Alone  in  the 
Great  City.  A  Shrewd  Scheme.  An  Ever-Piesent  Face.  Olive  Gerard's 
Warning.  The  Cruel  Awakening.  The  Bird  in  a  Golden  Cage.  The  Luxu- 
rious Apartments  of  Lucian  Davli  n,  the  Man  of  Luck.  A  Dissatisfied  Serv- 
ant. The  Man  of  Luck  Defied.  A  Well-  Aimed  Pistol  Shot.  "  Little  Demon, 
I  will  kill  you  before  I  will  lose  you  now!"  Doctor  Vaughn  Summoned. 
A  Charming  Widow  at  Itellalr.  "The  Danger  is  Past!"  Gone!  "  When 
Next  we  Meet.  I  Shall  Have  Other  Weapons  !"  Bonnie,  Bewitching  Claire. 
A  Tell-tale  Photograph.  "Cruel,  Crafty,  Treacherous."  Madeline  and 
Olive  in  Conference.  "Kitty,  the  Dancer,  will  Die!"  The  Story  of  an  Old 
Crime  Retold.  "Percy!  Percy!  Percy!"  A  Message  from  the  Dead.  "May 
God's  Curse  fall  on  all  who  Drove  her  to  her  Doom!"  Miss  Arthur's  French 
Maid.  Cora  Growing  Weary  of  Dissembling.  Celine  Leroque  Overhears 
an  Important  Conversation.  Mr.  Percy  startled.  Cora  Shares  this  Feeling. 
Percy  Turns  the  Tables.  "And  yet  yon  are  on  the  Earth!"  Celine  Manages 
to  PI  i  y  the  Spy  to  some  Purpose.  Cora  and  Celine  Measure  Swords.  Cora's 
Cunning  Plot.  "Celine  looked  Cautiously  about  her."  An  Intercepted  Tel- 
egram. Face  to  Face.  A  Midnight  Appointment.  "lam  Afraid  for  you; 
but  give  ir  up  now?  never!"  An  Irate  Spinster.  Celine's  Highly  Probable 
Story.  Gathering  Clues.  A  Hurried  Visit.  The  Hand  of  Friendship 
Wields  the  Surgeon's  Knife.  Claire  Keith  Placed  Face  to  Face  with 
Trouble.  A  Dual  Renunciation.  An  Astonishing  Disclosure.  "I  am  not 
Worthy  of  him.  and  she  is!"  Struggling  Against  Fate.  "Ah,  how  Dared  I 
think  to  Become  one  of  you?"  A  Fiery  Fair  Champion.  Hagar  and  Cora 
have  a  Meeting.  Cora  gets  a  Glimmer  of  a  False  Light.  "  To  be,  to  do,  to 
Suffer."  A  Troubled  Spinster.  An  Aggravating  French  Maid.  "Won't 
there  be  a  Row  in  the  Castle!"  Setting  some  Snares.  Cora  and  Celine  form 
an  Alliauie.  A  Veritable  Ghost  Awakens  Consternation  in  the  Household. 
"If  ever  you  want  to  make  him  feel  what  it  is  to  Suffer.  Hagar  will  help 
you!"  Doctor  Vaughn  Visits  Bellair.  Not  a  Bad  Day's  Work.  Henry  Re- 
veals his  Master's  Secrets.  Claire  Turns  Circe  A  Mysterious  Tenant. 
Celine  Hurries  Matters  a  Trifle.  The  Curtain  Rises  on  the  Mimic  Stage. 
Celine  Discharged  by  the  Spinster,  takes  Service  with  Cora.  The  Sudden 
Illness.  The  Learned  "Doctor  from  Europe."  "I  am  Sorry,  very  Sorry." 
The  Plot  Thickens.  A  Midnight  Conflagration.  The  Mysterious  House  in 
Flames,  and  its  Mysterious  Tenant  takes  Refuge  with  Claire.  The  Story  of 
a  Wrecked  Life.  "  Well,  it  is  a  Strange  Business,  and  a  Difficult."  Letters 
from  the  Sent  of  War.  Mr.  Percy  Shakes  Himself.  A  Fair  Invalid.  "Two 
Handsomer  Scoundrels  Never  Stood  at  Bay!"  A  Silken  Belt  Wortl.  a  King's 
Ransom.  A  Successful  Burglary.  Cross  Purposes.  A  Slight  Complication. 
A  new  Detective  on  the  Scene.  Clarence  Vaughn  seeks  to  Cultivate  him. 
Bidding  High  for  First-Class  Detective  Service.  "Thou  Shalt  not  Serve 
two  Masters"  set  at  naught.  Mr.  Lord's  Letter.  Premonitions  of  a  Storm. 
"The  —  fellow  is  Dead!"  A  Thunderbolt.  "I  have  come  back  to  my  own!" 
A  Fair  but  Strong.  Hand.  Cora  Restive  under  Orders.  "You  —  you 
are  -  ?"  "Celine  Leroque,  Madam."  A  Mailman.  A  Bogus  Doctor  Un- 
comfortabK  "Don't  you  try  that,  sir!"  Lucian  Davlin's  "Points"  are 
False  Beacons.  Cora's  Humiliation.  An  Arrival  of  Sharp-Eyed  Well- 
Borers.  R.-ither  Strange  Maid  Servants.  The  Cords  are  Tightening  and  the 
Victims  Writhe.  A  Veritable  Sphynx.  Sleeping  with  Eyes  Open.  A  Sav- 
age Toothache.  A  Judicious  Use  of  Chloroform.  A  Bold  Break  for  Free- 
dom. An  Omnipresent  Well-Borer,  "  No  Nonsense,  Mind;  I'm  not  a  Flat." 
"For  God's  sake,  what  are  you?"  "A  Witch!"  The  Doctor's  Wooing. 
Mrs.  Ralston  Overhea-s  Something.  A  Fresh  Complication.  'He  is  very 
Handsome;  so  are  Tigers!"  An  Astounding  Revelation.  Mrs.  Ralston's 
Story.  "No."  gasped  Olive,  "I—  I—."  A  Movement  in  Force.  Cora  stirs 
up  the  Animals.  A  Wedd'ng  Indefinitely  Postponed  for  Cause.  Nipped  in 
the  Bud.  Ready  for  Action.  "Be  at  the  Cottage  to-night."  A  Pleafor  ror- 

S'veness.     Sharpening  the  Sword  of   Fate.     The  Weight  of  a   Woman's 
and.    "Officers.take  him;  he  has  been  my  Prisoner  long  enough!"    "Man, 
you  have  been  a  Dupe,  a  Fool  !"    Cora's  Confession.    "The  Pistol  is  Aimed 
at  Madeline's  Heart  !"    "  It  is  a  Death  Wound  !"    "The  Goddess  you  Wor- 
ship has  Deserted  you!"    The  Death  -bed  of  a  Hypocrite.    "And  then  comes 
The  World  is  Clothed  in  a  New  White  Garment. 
"God's  greatness  shines  around  our  iucompleteness, 
Bound  our  restlessness  His  rest  I" 


THE  GOLD  HUNTERS'  ADVENTURE  i 

OR,    WILD    LIFE    IN    AUSTRALIA. 

By  WM.  H.  THOMES.  author  of  "The  Bushrangen,"  "The   Gold   Hunters  in  Europe," 

"A  Whaleman's  Adventures,"  "Life  in  the  East  Indies,"  "Adventures  on   a 

Slaver,"  "Running  the  Blockade,"  etc.,  etc. 


"  Now  for  a  rush.— Cut  them  to  piecegl" 
A    FASCINATING    STORY    OF     ADVENTURE, 


SHYER'S  ADVENTURES 


ON   SEA  AND    LAND. 


"We  saw  many  species  of  wild  animals."    Page  89. 


By   WM.    H.   THOMES, 

Author  of  "THE  GOLD  HUNTERS'  ADVENTURES  IN  AUSTRALIA,"  "THE  BUSHBANSEBS,' 
"RUNNING  THE  BLOCKADE,"  etc.,  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED     WITH     FORTY    ELEGANT     ENGRAVINGS. 


SOLD  ON  ALL  RAILWAY  TRAINS  AND  BY  ALL  BOOKSELLERS. 


A  Whaleman's  Adventures 

AT  SEA,  IN  THE  SANDWICH  ISLANDS  AND  CALIFORNIA. 

**& 


Author  of  "THE  GOLD  HUNTERS'  ADVENTURES  IN  AUSTRALIA,"  "THE  BUSHRANGERS 
"RUNNING  TUB  BLOCKADE,"  etc.,  etc. 


SOLD  ON  ALL  RAILWAY  TRAINS  AND  BY  ALL  BOOKSELLERS. 


^e^;^^^^!^l^0: 


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